


Light Through Splintered Glass

by suitcasedstars



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, CEO Lexa (The 100), Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitcasedstars/pseuds/suitcasedstars
Summary: Lexa navigates her fragmented life, unhealthily coping through alcohol and too much work. She's not ready to love anyone else, yet.But then there's Clarke; mischievous and luminescent blue eyes, beautiful and provoking.Twists and twirls of attraction tangled in wounded hearts and eventually ends in love.
Relationships: Anya/Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 43
Kudos: 170





	1. a trail to follow

**Author's Note:**

> My own and first attempt in immortalizing Clexa. 
> 
> The story will be in varying intensity of emotions.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Time to run." 

ALIE tells you from the ceiling mounted speaker of your living room. You run the back of your hand to your eyes and force them to open. You fell asleep on the couch again. Your brain isn't firing quiet right yet since you don't remember how you got home, all you know is that you clocked out from your fancy office and drove as far as you can, as fast as you can and that's all you remember. You need to make coffee, you thought. At least half of your wit is returning. 

Finally, you pushed yourself out of the couch resisting the urge to plop back down. Sometimes you think your couch is too comfortable to be a couch maybe that's why you haven't made it to bed in the past few nights. You're still wearing your work clothes, you grimaced, disgusted at yourself for failing to observe proper hygiene before bed. You're not usually like this. As a matter of fact, Anya calls you a neat freak, among other nicknames she loves to provoke you with. You decide to shower first. 

After cleaning up, you pad downstairs to make coffee. As your bare feet touched the cold stairs you recalled pulling over in a dark parking lot of a bar far away from the city. You must have run the bar dry last night because you still haven't recalled how you got home. You walked across the living room to the window and check for the driveway. Your car is neatly parked. _Huh_. 

You decided against the coffee again and changed for your running gear. You head for your usual route every morning, down the neighborhood to the nearby park. It's too early for people to be awake and you love it, being alone with the soft bass of your earbuds and the hard pavement as your knees bend and your calves flex; the beads of sweat running down your spine releasing the alcohol you consumed with abandon. You don't ever worry for your own safety running alone at five in the morning with a hungover. You mentally thank Anya for dragging you to her MMA class a few years back. You've never been so glad of humoring her fascination in bodily harm. 

_Anya._

It must be the adrenaline and sweat because the memory of last night's inebriation finally presented itself in the forefront of your half-dazed brain. 

Anya's uncanny ability to track you down never fails to surprise you or in last night's case annoy you to hell and now you remember snapping at her for taking the glass of whiskey you were nursing as you brood in one of the bar stools in that place you've never set foot in until last night but thankful it's there as a venue for your deep thinking and self-flagellation. 

"Get up." Anya demanded after about an hour of allowing you to boil your liver in strong alcohol. Your best friend was never a patient person and she'd rather kick your ass in your workouts rather than watch you waste away. You groan anyway. 

"I'm taking you home, that's enough." 

Your forehead is resting on your arm propped on the bar counter. You can't see her but you hear the scowl in her voice. 

"I swear I'm going to carry you out of this bar if you don't get up right now." Anya threatened. 

Recent events have proved that Anya is very capable of throwing you across her shoulder so you don't doubt she'll do it again. Despite her slim frame, she's strong enough to carry you to her car and pin you down in the octagon during your friendly matches. So, you relent, not wanting to be the next star of Anya's story time during holidays and drinks with your common friends and frankly being carried out of a bar is already a very embarrassing prospect you very much like to avoid no matter how wasted you are. 

The bar spins around you as you stand almost knocking out someone's drink and potentially be involved in a bar brawl. The guy was muscular but you're pretty sure Anya can take him out if it happened. Not you though, you're in no shape for a fight let alone pinch a fly. At least you can admit that in your inebriated state but never to your best friend, you like to play tough and half the time that's what gets you in trouble. Anya caught your elbow before you stumbled. Brawl avoided. 

In the parking lot, you headed for your car and swung to the driver's side. You had a glimpse of Anya's impatient facial expression bordering on boredom and a very audible exasperated sigh. 

"You can't even stand up straight, not happening." Anya told you and you hate yourself for being so drunk you can't form any coherent sentence to object. "Scoot over." She demanded and you obeyed because honestly you just want the night to end, you just want to be left alone again to your self-destruction. 

Anya must have reached her patience quota last night after dropping you off resulting to your couch sleepover. You don't mind anyway; your couch had grown on you. 

It's past six a.m. when you get back to your house. You have an hour to get ready for work. At last, you settle yourself in one of the stools by the kitchen island for coffee scrolling your phone for today's news. Your mornings are pretty much like this regardless of late nights and hungover. 

As soon as you leave the privacy of your home, you put on the mask you wear around the people who don't know you like Anya does. You discard the emotions you don't need at work; you compartmentalize. You close off the part of you that isn't fit for closing deals and signing contracts. 

You don't let yourself think of your dead girlfriend or how her head hit the windshield as you gripped the steering wheel before your car flipped multiple times in the dead of the night, sealing her fate and yours. It was never how you expected your night to turn out and you wish you could take it back. You were just telling her about the account you closed, you were so smug about it and as usual she was rolling her eyes but you know how proud she was, how your joy was also hers and your burden hers to carry as well. 

You think you're never getting over the pain. 

But for now, you go to work because there's nothing else you could do about it and you hate it. You _fucking_ hate yourself. 

* * *

The last of daylight cuts through the glass window of your office, your employees are heading out one by one; their hurried footsteps became a background while you continue leafing through pages of proposals you have to review and critique for the next sales pitch. 

Your assistant knocks on your door, you don't look up from the folder you've glued your eyes to for the past hour, you figured she's just going to let you know she's leaving since it's almost seven and she's supposed to have left an hour ago and it's Friday. 

"Ms. Woods, is there anything else you need?" she calls to you from the door frame. 

"That'd be all. See you Monday, Tris." 

The whole floor has gone silent, you could hear a pin drop. Spending extra time at your office have been a welcome distraction. You've been staying out late in the office and even comes in sometimes on weekends that Anya swears you'd be the next youngest billionaire with your face sprawled in a Forbes magazine page. It's not impossible at the rate you're going but that's not why you're doing it. If you're thinking about how to outsmart your rivals you won't think about anything else. You overwork your body and mind until you're too tired to get caught in nostalgia and regret and if that's not enough because there are those days, you hop to your car and drive aimlessly until you find an interesting enough bar to drown out your grief. 

It's hasn't been twenty-four hours since your last drunken adventure and you still have a dull headache from the hungover and Anya's scowl still seared on your retinas but you're not ready to go home to an empty house. So, you drove for the opposite direction of home. 

* * *

You ended up in a dive bar, not your usual preference but you're feeling it anyway, a change of scenery you convince yourself. Worn out booth seats in exchange for plush upholstery, cheap beer for black labels. You started with a cold beer, instead of sitting by the counter, you isolated yourself in a booth. It's weirdly quiet for a bar and then you noticed, you seem to be the youngest one, not anyone within your age group or so you think. It's hard to be sure when the lights are so dim, the one on your booth is flickering like it's about to die anytime soon. 

It's half past eleven, the moisture of the bottle has gathered to its foot creating a little pool of water on the table. You have consumed exactly four bottles of cheap beer, the light above you still flickering. Your definitely buzzed but you can still drive. The people have increased, possibly doubled before you came in, the older ones no longer in sight, it's a bit rowdy now so you decided it's time to go. On your way out, you pull some bills and stashed it on the bar counter, the bartender smiled in thanks and pocketed his tip. 

You're almost at your car when you notice a little commotion. The parking lot barely has lighting and it's not even paved. You see two figures in silhouette. As you draw closer, you're sure the other one is a woman. 

"I'm not interested." You heard her say but the man is still hovering in her personal space. And then comes a shove to the man's chest. You're clenching your fists now, you marched directly towards them. 

"Is there a problem here?" You inquire in a calm tone but your spine is rigid. "Are you okay?" You ask the woman. 

The man seems to back a little but doesn't leave. He has the audacity to run his hand through his hair like a shampoo commercial model and actually smirks at your presence. "Not your business." He snarls like his dismissing you from whatever it is they're in the middle of. The woman still hasn’t replied to your question. What if you misread the situation? You're aware that you're tipsy but you know what you heard and her body language is telling you all signs of uncomfortable even in the low light from the street lamps. 

"If you're harassing her, I'm not going to turn a blind eye and let you do that." You say it like a warning. Again, he didn't budge from where he's standing. 

"I'm fine," The woman finally says. "I can handle it." 

You want to believe her, and you do. You glanced at the man once more and you turn on your heels. You have climbed to your car but you can't seem to leave. The two were still talking about something, voices muffled. You're observing from your side mirror just to be sure no one is getting hurt. A part of you is tired and needs sleep and wants to drive home but another is urging you to stay and make sure the woman gets to her car safe and sound. You'll never be one of those onlookers while someone is getting harassed in a dark parking lot. But you are because you're still seated until you're not. 

The argument escalated and the man is crowding the woman on the car door, she's telling him to fuck off with her palms on his chest and the next thing you know you had grabbed the man by the shoulders that made him stumble backwards landing on his ass. 

"What the fuck?" He hissed at you and already on his feet. 

He launched forward. You dodged the punch catching his wrist pinning it to his lower back and pushing him to the ground making him grunt and curse under his breath. You heard him call you a bitch which is fueling your annoyance more. You haven't even made your hit, just defense. His clearly more intoxicated than you are with the way he's easily outbalanced, that's not an excuse to treat a woman badly but it won't stop you from beating him up if you have to. He's staggering to straighten his stance when the woman spoke again. 

"Finn, just go home before I call the police." Her voice is husked and angry. 

You didn't realize that you’re lightly panting until the guy – Finn – is gone. You feel a bit more buzzed by moving so sudden and using the strength you kind of reserved for the drive home. 

"Are you okay?" She asks you. Her expression has softened, her cheeks are flushed. 

"I should be asking you that," you say, picking up the scarf that must be hers. 

"I'm okay." She accepts the scarf. "I could've handled it on my own, you didn't have to." 

_Is she serious?_

It's not worth it to argue her capability to defend herself and frankly you're worn to your bones you feel like you could use a very long sleep so you say nothing. If she's not grateful, you don't really care. Still, she could've just said thank you and you'll call it a night. You feel the alcohol working its way to your system making your vision blur a little, the adrenaline from playing savior is wearing out. 

You're on your way to the car when she says behind you, "But thank you. Drive safe." 

"You too." You call back without turning. 

* * *

You made it home unscathed but never to bed. Again. 


	2. holy smokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa meets Clarke again in the middle of smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa are always gonna find each other, you should know this by now.
> 
> Give it a shot.
> 
> Enjoy!

Three months later.

You're on your way to the airport, annoyed because Anya declined your request to drop you off. It was on short notice so you can't really be mad at her for choosing a trip to some lake with her girlfriend.

("Lexa, Raven is excited about this weekend trip and besides you're a big girl. You're very capable of driving yourself to the airport or call a cab.")

You try to understand. Maybe you could take it out on her in the octagon when you get back, that's more like her preferred medium of communication anyway. 

When you're on official business trip, you see to it to leave at least an hour before flights, you hate being late. It's Saturday and there's little to no traffic ahead. This improves your mood a little bit. Your mind starts to wander to places it shouldn't, to places where it hurts, to memories flashing back in tsunamis that leaves you gasping for air, to promises of future where there isn't one anymore because the one thing you should have kept you failed in fulfilling. You wouldn't be driving irritated now if you had kept that promise. 

_Don't worry, you're safe with me._ You assured her on your first date.

_I'll protect you. I know MMA._ You insisted to accompany her on a work-related visit to a prison facility. She always teased you for your gestures of chivalry. _We'll protect each other, babe._ She told you then as she looks at you fondly.

She would've been in your passenger seat, sticking her forehead in the open window as the cold morning air blows her hair. You love when she did that because you can look at her in awe without being teased about it. She would've been driving you to the airport. You wouldn't be so fucking miserable had you kept her safe.

You see still see her face in your dreams, sometimes she's smiling at you from the other side of your bed, you wish it's real. On worse nights, you would wake up choking, deprived of air with tears leaking from your eyes because you saw her bloody head, her body limp on the highway, lifeless.

There is smoke in your vision, the road had disappeared. You thought it's from your tears so you scratch them with the back of your hand. There's still smoke. As you approached closer, a car is pulled over in the middle of the road with the smoke from your eyes. A lotof it. You glanced at your watch; you have forty-five minutes before your flight leaves you but the airport is no more than fifteen minutes away from here so you decided to check out the source of smoke.

You see a woman with flaxen waves just above her shoulders. Her back is turned on you, she seems to be engrossed under the hood of her car where the smoke is coming from. That's dangerous, you think, she could suffocate in that amount of smoke. You contemplated if you should approach, maybe she's a killer or a carnapper setting her trap. Do killers wear boyfriend jeans and silk blouse? Maybe not. Or maybe she's a hotshot criminal. Geez, you could write thriller with your thoughts. 

"That's a lot of smoke." You motion.

The woman turns with a frown hearing you draw close. She stares at you, studying you and crosses her arms to her chest. An amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Are you sure you're not some superhero?" She asks, and you furrow your brows. "You seem to always be nearby when I'm in trouble."

Well, _that's_ interesting. You don't recognize her. You suddenly run a mental archive if she's one of those girls you took to your apartment while you were wasted as fuck. You grimaced at yourself, they're not that many but you check anyway. The blonde has a full grin now amused by your current bewildered state.

"Excuse me?" You do know how to use words. The woman chortles. 

"You don't remember," she observes, a bit of surprise in her voice, the husked sound seems familiar to your ears. You're still foraging your brain for any information but there's nothing. You might've literally cried your brains out during your mini breakdown five minutes ago.

"So, you just help girls in a dingy parking lot to ward off assholes and forget?" 

_Oh, that girl._

She must have notice you get your memory back because she's _laughing._ Actually laughing, like you told her the funniest shit ever. Or maybe you're making contorted faces in the process of your enlightenment. You're not sure. You feel the heat crawl up to your cheeks.

"Guess you were too buzzed to remember." She added, returning her attention to her still smoking car.

"What happened to your car?" You sidestepped her question because maybe you were really tipsy that night to remember but you find yourself too embarrassed to admit. 

"If I know I wouldn't be hovering here pretending I know a thing about cars." It's not meant to offend but you are anyway. You could've sped away to the airport and didn't pull over to asses a probable cause of traffic for the next hour but just like the parking lot incident you can't turn a blind eye. Maybe you have a thing for damsels in distress. But this one isn't a damsel at all, smart mouth yes.

"You shouldn't really be inhaling that smoke, you could suffocate. And it might go in flames."

And as if on cue, the wires sparked causing for the woman to startle and what's under the hood goes up in flames making the both of you run back all the way to your car. Thank heavens, you parked a little distant.

"Shit," The blonde mutters. "my stuff is still there." 

Your instincts clicked in and you're opening the trunk of your car for the fire extinguisher. You rushed back to the burning hood and tried to put it out. You've only used a fire extinguisher once in your life when Raven decided to pull a prank on you. You're surprised you remember how it works, it's probably the adrenaline again. Luckily, you were able to kill the fire.

* * *

The tow truck came some minutes later, you both considered calling the fire department in case the car goes to flames again but agreed for the tow truck in the end. You glance at your watch. _Shit._ You're going to have to drive like hell is chasing you to make it to your flight.

"I really have to go, flight to catch." You announce hastily already making your way to the driver's seat. The woman only nods. She seems to be in a dazed state, probably still in shock with how her morning is developing. 

"Are you gonna be okay? I'd offer a ride but– " you twitch your mouth, feeling guilty you're gonna have to leave her by herself carless.

"It's fine. I'll be fine." She offers a smile. "Thanks for not letting my car burn."

"Stay safe now." You smile back.

"Have a safe flight."

* * *

You made it to your flight, it was delayed for another hour so you had a time to clean up the incident from your face which you failed to notice due to your haste until TSA is inquiring if you're okay. You were confused because you feel fine but when you reached the restroom and discovered your own reflection in the mirror, you released a yelp. Your face was covered in dirt from earlier. 

People must have thought you're some loony wandering through the airport if not for your fancy suit that highlights your lithe frame and height. Your crisp shirt on the other hand needs to be replaced if you wish to appear presentable. You will have no time to change once you land as you're going straight to the meeting you've been preparing for weeks. Your company's goal is to gain more investors for the projects in line so you need this account badly. 

You're sitting in the plane when you realized you have helped that woman twice now and you never introduced yourself and nor did she. Not that you have to. _Did I_ _want_ _to?_

You forced the thought out of your brain and dozed off. 

You dreamed of a blonde woman in boyfriend jeans.

* * *

You returned three days later with yet another victory in your bag. You're excited to share the news with everyone so you went straight to the office. Your flight landed early, it's only seven in the morning when you arrived. You have your own bathroom and a little closet where you keep spare jackets and shirts, so changing is never a problem. 

At seven thirty you heard a set of stilettos clicking on the marble floor. You recognize the footsteps so you go back to the paper you're reading. Jet-lag is starting to take effect on you an hour later, you need coffee. With a push of your palms to your desk, you stood up and proceed for the door to ask Tris. You swing the door open. Tris _shrieked._

"Jesus Christ." Tris exclaims.

"Are you okay, Tris?" 

"Uh, I'm sorry Ms. Woods." Tris splutters. "I didn't know you're already back." 

"Oh, my flight was early. Can I ask for coffee please?"

"Sure, right away."

At that you went back in, settling on the couch. The skyline is illuminated with sunrise, a soft glow is streaked on your glass wall. The hubbub of traffic is muffled by forty floors of concrete and glass. More footsteps creak their way to designated desks and offices driving you to a daydream. You find yourself thinking of a pair of lips tugging into a smirk, pale skin and beach waves of hair – scorching sunlight illuminating silk blonde, beads of sweet collecting at the base of throat –

"Ms. Woods?" Tris is setting your coffee by the desk eyeing you with concern. "Do you need me to cancel anything today?"

You must look like shit if your assistant is asking you this. You don't cancel anything as much as possible, it's a rule.

("Lexa, what must be done today must proceed." Your father always told you during times of active procrastination.)

But you're also very jet-lagged and might not function in a CEO manner, your last thought as evidence of compromised moral. So, you tell Tris you're taking the afternoon off today. You're the damn CEO you can approve your own vacation request. If Tris was surprised, she didn't show. Your other employees, however didn't hide their astonishment as you sauntered to the elevator before lunch time.

You spent the afternoon sleeping (In your bed this time) and reading and falling back asleep. It's dusk when you woke up again, you scramble for your phone to check the time. It's past six, you have two messages from Anya.

**Anya [17:23]:** _Are you back in the city?_

**Anya [17:24]:** _Are you home?_

You type a reply: _Yes and yes, I took the afternoon off. Why?_

The mattress is seducing you to stay planted but your stomach grumbles. It dawns on you that you haven't eaten the whole day aside from the tiny sandwich served in the plane and the americano Tris got for you. You need sustenance but you also don't have the patience to cook right now so you order. 

Anya's reply came at the same time the delivery guy knocks on your door.

**Anya [18:05]:** _Are you dying?_

You roll your eyes.

_No. Do you need something?_

**Anya [18:07]:** _ Just checking if I'm about to haul someone's drunk ass again. _

_I'm good._

**Anya [18:09]:** _Good._

The rest of the night was a blur of Italian takeout and Netflix on your couch. You actually switched off your phone after messaging Tris to deal with things if something requires attention in the middle of the night and to only call you if it's an emergency on your home number. 

Your body is sore with long hours of sitting in meetings and having to deal with corporate assholes in the last three days abroad. It's part of the job, you know this and you have to play their game to win and you did. This wasn't your original plan though; you didn't want your life to be chained in paper works and running a multi-million empire. You wanted to be free from it. You didn't want the spotlight of the city's business glamour. You didn't want to be responsible for the livelihood of seven thousand employees. And yet here you are.

Because you have to. 

Because your father died an untimely death.

Because you need a distraction and not think about your dead girlfriend.

Your _dead_ girlfriend.

It's been almost two years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Should we introduce Clarke's point of view?


	3. third time's so not the charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke finally learns the brunette's name.
> 
> And there's thirst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had so much fun writing in Clarke's point of view.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it as well.

"Clarke, you've been home for a week, did you not miss me and O? Drag your round ass down here." Raven demands on the other line. 

You're on a month-long vacation from volunteering abroad, it's longer than you took three months ago to settle something in Polis General regarding the supplies and equipment. It wasn't vacation at all, more like a touch and go since you only stayed for four days and then went back to Africa. You didn't have ample time to meet with your best friends then so they're pressuring you now. After all you haven't hung out in a year. 

You're psyched to be reunited with the girls you used to be glued at the hips with but after five days of coming back home, you've only been sleeping in your childhood bedroom and the day you decided to go out, your car betrayed you in the worst possible way. On day three, Abby marched to your room in a haste and a bit of concern in her eyes. She demands you get checked immediately because maybe you picked up an illness from another continent you weren't vaccinated for when you were an infant. 

"Mom, I'm okay. Just jet-lagged and tired." You promised but as another physician you know she won't be satisfied until you hand her a full health report, well if she doesn't administer them herself. 

On day four, your mother was ready to bring the hospital to you. "I know you're on vacation so if you need to avoid the hospital environment, I'll have you tested here. Let me just make some calls." 

"Jesus, mom," You exclaimed over breakfast. "I am okay. I just want to stay under the covers for a bit." 

Day five. You're finally chirpy or you pretend to be to avoid getting swabbed in your own home. You even went for a short run. You _don't_ run. Somehow you regretted that one. She eyes you suspiciously. Maybe you went a little extreme on the pretenses to convince your mother you're well. Because perhaps you are _not._

Showering was a good excuse to extricate yourself before she insists the executive check-up again. Abby calls out to you she's leaving for work while you're in the shower. You thought you've gone unscathed through the morning when your phone blows with messages and then goes off. Raven is calling to FaceTime. 

"Rae, I've been home for five days not a week," You deflect and ignore the commentary about your ass altogether. "For a math prodigy, you have no right to be confused with simple arithmetic." 

Raven scoffs. "Don't get smart with me, Griffin." 

"Fine," You relent. "Just text me when and where and I'll be there." The girl on your screen frowns at your weird rhyming. 

Raven texts you an address for a bar later in the night while you're lounging on the couch catching up on The 100. You replied with a simple "See ya" and threw your phone back on the coffee table. 

* * *

"Fucking finally." Octavia bear-hugs you with a toothy grin. Raven follows, she hugs you a little longer. 

"So, how was Africa?" Raven pokes. 

"Good." 

"Griffin, we waited for you to get out of your ass for a week after living in the desert across the globe for a year and now you're answering in a monosyllabic word?" Raven rapid fires, Octavia only hums in agreement. 

"First of all, again five days," You can't stress this enough. "Second of all, you've been mentioning my ass since yesterday, it has nothing to do with my state of being. I was just jet-lagged, I needed to feel home for a while. Africa was interesting, scorching during the day freezing cold at night. The kids were great though. Satisfied?" 

Raven and Octavia exchange a look as if assessing your answer telepathically before nodding in agreement. "That's more like it." 

"Are you sure you did not catch any foreign disease?" Octavia added. 

"Oh god," you groan. "Did my mother put you up to this?" 

Raven said yes while Octavia the other. You groan a little more in exasperation. 

"I'm healthy as fuck, okay? I got tested before I left, it's basic protocol. I assure you I'm fine." 

"Okay, okay, geez." Raven downs her shot, you and Octavia mirrored, finally settling you're healthy as a horse. 

From shots, you dialed down to cold beer after a round. You and your best friends are settled in a booth with a wooden table. Octavia shares about her weird professor in one of her law subjects. Raven says she's happy with her girlfriend and her exciting job. You missed them so much your chest warms in affection of the two ladies laughing and bickering in front of you. While you were away, you would FaceTime with either or both if the timing is okay and your connection isn't shit. But it was incredibly rare as you're all adults with demanding careers. So, being here with them is the most relaxed and at peace you've ever been in a while. 

You tell them about your encounter with Finn from three months ago. Concern etched in their eyes. Raven muttering "what an asshole" and Octavia commenting "you dodged a bullet". You know they're both right seeing how Finn took it when you declined his "for old times sake last fuck" offer. You also told them about the girl who helped you with the Finn situation back at the parking lot and how you met her again in the middle of the road while your car went in flames. You tell them she might be an actual superhero. 

"Did you get her name?" Raven inquires. 

"I didn't." 

The look on Raven's eyes was pure incredulity as if in your panicked state you would have had actually form a coherent thought of asking the woman's name. But maybe if you weren't so busy studying the slope of her jaw and how the hollow of her cheeks accented her face like she's a model freshly ripped out of a magazine and how the deep green irises popped under the morning light maybe you would have managed to introduce yourself and ask her name. 

"You've lost your game, Griffin. You left it in Africa with all the medical waste now wasting away." 

"You're rusty." 

You glare at both of them. 

"You need to get laid, Clarke. Was there anyone in Africa?" 

"Maybe I should introduce you to my boss." 

They went on with the teasing for the next ten minutes, the scowl on your face is almost permanent. 

"You're pimping me to your boss?" You feign offense. "I have no interest to be the other woman, Raven." 

"It's a she _,_ and _she's_ single. _"_ Raven declares. "New job, remember?" 

"Right." 

"Keep up, Griffin." 

* * *

It's almost 3AM when you called it a night, ordering a car because none of you is in any way fit to drive, not in the next twenty-four hours, a bath and a very long nap. You dropped off Octavia before heading for Raven's apartment. You have the decency not to come home looking like _that_ and possibly alarming your mother giving her another reason to drag you to the lab to get tested for a disease. You texted her you'll be home in the morning and that you're still catching up with Raven and Octavia. 

You half woke up to the turning of door locks. You thought maybe Raven got up early to get some breakfast so you ignore it. You're sprawled on Raven's couch, your arm dangling to the edge while your face is pressed on the cushion. Raven must have crawled to her bedroom leaving you with a blanket because you remember you both passed out in the living room. 

The door swung open. _Did Raven dye her hair blonde so early in a Saturday morning?_

You squinted your eyes. It's _not_ Raven. 

"Clarke?" You recognize her now even in the glory of your hungover. 

Raven's girlfriend. 

You've been introduced some months ago through one of your FaceTime with Raven. Anya never really talked to you, she just kept Raven company while the two of you dished on pop culture. You're surprised she recognized you. 

When you only groaned in response, she proceeded to seek out her girlfriend. "Where's Raven?" 

Anya padded to the bedroom to look for Raven. You're a bit annoyed she left the door open. The sunlight assaults your eyes so you squint some more. Another person walks through half a second later but she seems to have frozen by the door when she sees you. The light coming from outside makes her face difficult to make out. She closes the door behind, her face swims into view. 

"You." She blurted. 

_Holy fuck._

* * *

Several awkward moments later, Anya sauntered back to the living followed by a freshly showered Raven. You're sitting up now, feeling too exposed in the presence of strangers while you look like crap, smeared eyeliners and bed hair. Your brain pounding to your skull. You think you can kill Raven right now for not mentioning she's gonna have guests on a bright Saturday morning. 

You wish you were less drunk last night with functioning legs to carry you to Raven's room. You wish you didn't give in to peer pressure to down extra two shots. You wish you could disappear right now. 

"I'm gonna go head for the shower." You croaked and slipped to the bathroom. 

It took you too long in the shower that Raven came knocking if you had flushed yourself in the toilet. You finally opened the door. 

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you have a brunch with your girlfriend and Supergirl? You glower at Raven as you take the shirt she prepared for you on the bed. 

"Sorry I was too wasted I forgot, okay?" She explains. "And what are you talking– ? 

Raven cuts herself off and her eyes have widened in realization. 

"Yeah," You hiss. "How do you even know _her_?" You inquire further as you pull your pants to your legs. You basically grew up together, dressing in front of each other is as natural as the sun rising. 

"Lexa is my boss and she's Anya's best friend." 

" _What?!_ " 

_Lexa._

So that's her name. You commit it to memory. 

"You heard me, Clarke. I know you're hungover but so am I. Brunch? 

"I don't want to intrude. Besides who goes to brunch on a Saturday with their boss?" Your glowering has lessened now, voice no longer clipped. 

"We're friends," Raven tells you. "And you're not intruding. Since you're here, better fulfill my promise of introduction." She wiggled her brows and you wish again if you could just disappear. This is not how you hoped to meet _Lexa_ again. 

* * *

When you emerged from the bedroom, looking better than you feel, you found Anya bored on a cushioned armchair with her long limbs crossed and Lexa leaning on the kitchen island tapping on her phone. You avoided her gaze. You shouldn't feel embarrassed anymore but you are. Meeting the girl you have given thought about since the flaming car while you're lousily lying on your best friend's couch in last night's make up isn't your best moment. 

Raven cleared her throat sensing the awkward energy your body is producing. 

"So, babe, you've met Clarke on FaceTime." Raven starts. "Lexa, this is Clarke, Clarke Lexa." 

You exchange a small smile and a firm handshake. As you spar with your godawful hungover, you noticed Lexa gave you a once-over as she shook your hand. You mentally pat yourself on the back for having at least the strength to return a confident handshake and a straight face. 

"She'll be joining us for brunch, if that's okay?" 

"Sure." Lexa replied while Anya only nods. 

You all proceeded to the door with Raven and Anya heading out first hand in hand, it makes you smile seeing Raven happy like this. You're still avoiding Lexa's eyes and Lexa in general so you almost half-jogged to the door to follow the pair and Lexa trailing behind. 

To your infinite chagrin, Raven made you carpool with Lexa. So much for avoiding _those_ eyes, now you're stuck with her with so very little air in your lungs. You're just glad to have your Wayfarers, at least she won't be able to look into your still embarrassed and hungover soul _with_ those damn eyes. 

The ride to the restaurant is short so you didn't have to make awkward small talk with Lexa. It wasn't the case in the restaurant. 

"So how was your trip, boss?" Raven asks Lexa. 

Lexa is chewing her toast at the moment Raven decided to question her. Absentmindedly, you turned your attention to whoever the subject of probing is. It took her a second to answer, wiping the corner of her mouth with the pad of her thumb and all of a sudden, your eyes dropped to those lips. Lexa licks them and finally answering, you feel like your throat is parched you had to guzzle half a glass of water. 

"We did it, Arcadia Investments is in." Lexa says with a pleased smile. 

"Congratulations." Anya offers. 

"I never doubted you, boss." 

Lexa's smile extended to a full grin. Her eyes are sparkling and you're caught in awe of how the tiny gold flecks in her irises dance with the emerald as she discloses the details of her trip with Raven, Anya chiming in here and there. You're too quiet. You're not familiar with tech companies and investments so you sip on your coffee without a word, offering a smile to everyone when they look your way while you feign interest to whatever the hell Raven is rebooting next. There's still jack-hammering in your temples although the coffee and breakfast had reduced the pain to a four from a solid eight. 

"So Clarke, what is it that you do?" Blinking out from your stupor, you realize someone had asked you a question. Lexa _is_ asking you a question. You clear your throat as you lock eyes with her. 

"I'm interning as an ID physician." You answer. 

Lexa and Anya frown in unison, you realize that just like your minuscule knowledge in technology and business, they must be unfamiliar with doctors' specializations let alone in acronyms. 

"Clarke here works with infectious diseases," Raven saves when it took you too long to address the confusion. Lexa nods in acquiescence. 

"Which hospital?" Lexa inquires. 

"Actually, right now I'm on vacation. I was volunteering in Africa. I just got back a few days ago." 

Lexa nods more. "That's pretty cool, Clarke." 

You think Lexa's way of saying your name is your new favorite sound, how the 'rk' of your name clicks in her tongue. You want to make it your new ringtone. 

Having said more than ten words since you arrived, you feel more involved in the dialogue. Now, it's a conversation of four instead of three. You asked what Anya does for a living. Lexa answered for her saying Anya is an unemployed rich spoiled brat. Anya protested glaring at Lexa and a promise of kicking her ass in the octagon. Raven then supplies that Anya and Lexa's favorite workout is MMA. 

_Of course._

It finally makes sense how easily she handled Finn back then. What intrigues you is that why would Lexa bother to stop in the middle of the road with a smoking vehicle. You could've been an ax murderer for all she knows. It was in broad daylight, sure but no one really helps out just anyone these days anymore. Or are you just really cynical for a person? Maybe you've inhaled too much lab air. Maybe you actually have that undiagnosed disease your mother is so insistent about. 

On your way to the parking lot, you inform Raven you're going back to her apartment to get some of the stuff you left. Anya coughed so hard Lexa rushed to her side to pat her back. Raven's eyes are wide, her brows almost at her hairline. You furrow your own brows; Lexa have stopped patting Anya's back smiling in amusement to your slow-moving cognition. 

"You know what, I'll get it next time." You volunteered, finally understanding. In your defense you're still slightly buzzed. 

The pair slipped to Anya's car leaving you and Lexa alone, the awkwardness blanketing the air without Raven and Anya to dissolve it. You realize you're still both standing in the middle of a parking lot. 

"I, uh-" you stammer."-I'm just gonna order a car. You should go ahead." 

Lexa's forehead crinkles but smooths out in a flash. "I'll give you a ride. Where do you live?" 

"It's really fine. I don't want you to be out of your way." As much as you do want to extend the time with Lexa, you don't want to seem eager and quite frankly a burden if she's heading the opposite way. You've only known her for two hours but recent history shows she'd offer the ride even if she has to circle back. 

"Clarke, it's no bother." Lexa smiles. "Get in the car." 

So, you ended up in Lexa's car once again. Surprisingly, it's not uncomfortable as it was on the ride to the restaurant. Lexa initiated the conversation, asking more about what you do. In return, you try your best to come up with invigorating questions to be an appealing passenger. At the mention of Raven and Anya, Lexa recalls your bewilderment at the parking lot earlier. 

"I did not mean to cock block!" You defend. "I'm still so hungover you know." 

Lexa laughs. You think it's your second favorite sound. 

Your small talk with Lexa eased into a pleasant conversation. She tells you how she became friends with Raven and introduced her to Anya, the two seemed to click right away which is a first because other than Lexa herself, Anya doesn't really get along with others. You don't argue. You shared that you've been friends with Raven forever. You tell her a little about your other best friend, Octavia. 

Talking to Lexa with a little more context than the first two times you've met is definitely more entrancing. She then asked about your car which unfortunately isn't fit for utilization anymore. You told her you might look for one but you don't really know what to look for. Lexa shares her knowledge about good cars, by the sound of the details she's reciting you suspect she's talking about vehicles you can't afford but you nod and smile in appreciation anyway. 

You wish you live farther, suddenly Lexa is pulling over in front of your mother's house. You removed your seat belt and rest your hand on the door handle. 

"Thanks for the ride, Lexa." You say before hopping out. "Guess I'll see you around." 

"See you around, Clarke." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was Clarkey. Let me know if switching the POV is okay.


	4. dancing with her ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa thinks of Clarke. But her heart hasn't fully healed yet from the ruinous wound it sustained from a love lost forever.
> 
> Here's a glimpse of Lexa's guilt driving her to relapse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets a bit dark but a rainbow is always at the end.
> 
> Give Lexa some love.

As you drove away heading for your office your mind circled back to Clarke. It was the first time in a long while someone was in your passenger seat. It's the first time in a long time you didn't have to wipe your cheeks as you drove. Clarke's husked laughter clashing with yours, pleasurably invading your ears. The scent of her perfume coupled with pancake syrup she ate this morning across from you is still stuck in the air. 

Hungover Clarke is less of a smart mouth than Clarke In Trouble – you think. But beautiful either way. Clarke slumped in a couch with heavy sleep in her eyes wasn't any less attractive, if you're being honest it was a bit cute especially when her sky-crystal eyes widened in recognition as you strolled in Raven's apartment. 

It was weird seeing Clarke disheveled in contrast with your first two equally bizarre encounter where she was exuding confidence and swagger. Even in the parking lot that night, she didn't look as vulnerable as she did this morning. She was probably as startled as you were, intersecting paths in the oddest of ways. 

For the first time, you're glad Anya and Raven kept harassing you to join their weekend brunch. You know they're just looking out for you, especially Anya. She may not say it but you know she cares. Ever since you resort on weekday drinking and overexerting yourself at work, you noticed how Anya had softened a little around you. The pair started inviting you to their brunches, you even have a designated day for movie night and they let you choose the movie. It was eerie but also comforting. Anya was never good with the touchy-feely stuff; she prefers you talk with your fists. Raven on the other hand likes to discuss things over booze, a lot of it. The gestures had been sweet, you appreciate it more than you say. 

You're glad you came for brunch today and you're elated to no longer be a third wheel. 

You have reached the building parking lot, you're about to step out of the car when you noticed a Wayfarer on the dashboard. It's not yours. _Clarke's._

* * *

On weekends, you switch from working on your desk and on the couch so you can sit cross-legged or have power naps. You try focusing on the excel sheet but the Wayfarer is sitting on the coffee table which is making you think of its owner. You wonder how you've never been introduced to Clarke before but then you remembered about Africa. And then you remembered you used to be _not_ single so maybe that's why. 

You wonder if Clarke is single. 

You wonder if Clarke had noticed she left her sunglasses in your car. You might as well just go home now with your train of thoughts that involves only one person with heavenly deep irises. You fidget with your pen trying to refocus your attention to the excel sheet but miserably failing. 

You pace back and forth with a thick folder on your hand, leafing through pages and comprehending nothing. 

_Goddamnit._

It's the sunglasses' fault. 

You should return the sunglasses. Wait. _What?_

You contemplated on whether you should ask for Clarke's number from Raven but you know that's not gonna go down without the impossible teasing and Raven's going to tell Anya and then more fucking teasing. But you can't just show up on Clarke's door. You should've asked for Clarke's number when she talked about looking for a new car, you had a good excuse then. Wait. That could also work with Raven. No, it won't. Hardly. 

You pace some more making a soft ruffling noise on the carpet until your legs were noodles and your mind boggled. You give up. 

* * *

Saturday ended without any resolution to any of your predicaments. You decided to go home instead and read something that doesn't require cautious evaluation and a million-dollar signature, attempting to obviate any thought involving a girl with gold locks. Fiction might be a good pick or maybe visit the poetry archive. You pluck a book from the wooden shelf attached to the far end wall of your study adjacent to the window. You perch by the balcony on your cozy reading chair, the crisp weather making you shiver. You wish you had made a hot cocoa first before getting comfortable but you decide to make the beverage later. 

The material you picked is a paperback with frayed edges and a visible crack on the spine from top to bottom. The used to be glossy black cover had turned to a worn out matte but the initial _C_ in an elegant cursive is as new as the day it was written. You remember the day you had picked this book as a present, you had an almost fight with a teenager because it's the last copy. You would've given it up willingly if your girlfriend's birthday isn't on the same day you're picking up a gift for her. But because you got held up in the office for so long, it slipped out of your mind. She had told you about a new released book of poetry by her favorite author a few days ago. You remember how tight she wrapped her arms around your waist in thanks as she rested her forehead on your chest. She was small like that and warm and happy. You _were_ happy. 

You suddenly feel a guilt rising from your chest, the tranquil dusk mutating into a suffocating gloom. Raindrops trickling on the page, raindrops falling _from_ your eyes. The frosty breeze biting on your bare shoulders. You clutch your chest because it's cold and you're alone in a three storey suburban home with too many rooms for one person and so little warmth. And you cry, hoping the hurt would finally leak out. 

If the alcohol and exhaustion won't kill you, your culpability might. You didn't think about her until you're holding that book, you had let yourself think of someone else. You had let yourself not miserable. You deserve to be wretched. You did this to yourself. You did it to _her._

_"I'm sorry."_ You whimper on nothingness. 

" _I'm so sorry."_ You cry out. 

" _Please forgive me."_ You plead. 

But you don't think you deserve absolution, you haven't in nearly two years. But you ask for it anyway, hoping someone would finally forgive you for sliding into the driver's seat instead of the passenger's. For not checking again in both directions for trucks or sixteen-wheelers before hitting the gas. For not reminding her to check her seat belt. For celebrating too much. For being incapable to hold her hand as death sucked the oxygen from her lungs. For killing her. 

You shut your eyes and expect to see blood and bruises and death but you don't. She's smiling like the first time you saw her – composed and strikingly beautiful. She was eloquent not just as a journalist but as a person. _Your_ person. You thought journalists were all just nosy opinionated jerks with a mighty pen. You thought she was just like the paparazzi invading your privacy. But she queried not interrogate, her line of questioning barely scratched the surface of your personal life, she stayed on course. It had piqued your interest because she was notabsorbed in your dirty laundry whatsoever like the others. She was polite and calm. 

A week after your interview, Tris had delivered a copy of the magazine to your desk with the headline: _Alexandria Woods, Raising the Bar for the Tech Industry._

It had fed your ego, it validated you, it made you feel seen in an industry dominated by men. You felt accurately represented by her words as a businesswoman and a developer leaving an indelible mark to the country's technological advancement. You felt like you belong. 

Your tears have dried gluing your eyelids and making it hard to blink. You force them to open. She's smiling at you fondly like she always had. 

"Costia?" 

"Alexandria." She whispers. 

"I'm sorry," Tears are escaping your eyes again. "I'm so sorry." 

"It's okay, babe." She coos. "Please don't cry anymore." 

"I can't." You sob. 

"It's alright." 

"Please don't leave." You beg her. 

"I have to," she caresses your cheek and you lean into her warmth. "You have to let me go." 

You clasp your hand on her wrist gently tugging and kissing her palm as you close your eyes while you let the tears flow. You let it wet Costia's hand, you let it drown you if it means you're no longer going to feel like someone's twisting your heart from under your rib cage. You don't want to open your eyes in fear that Costia would no longer be there – not her smile, not her soft hands and definitely not her comfort. You're terrified of losing her all over again. You don't know if you can endure having to see her go. You just can't do it anymore. It hurts everywhere and you want it to stop but you don't know how. You just cry until your bone-dry and your head hurts, your body paralyzed. 

You felt soft lips brushed your forehead. Tweeter of birds muffled by the glass window in your bedroom shakes you awake; a soft flare of morning light makes your exposed arm tingles. Your bedside clock says it's seven fifteen, there's a bottle of whiskey on the floor beside Costia's book. 

* * *

Your Sunday was charged with dark brown liquid and crumpled sheets at the end of the bed; vases smashed on granite, puffy eyes and spiritless limbs. You refused to sleep in your bed because it's just too big and the more you stare at the vacant side the more you remember that it used to be occupied; the well-known sag of the mattress no longer there. 

The strength in your body is barely there and you're not even trying to restore it, you lie unblinking with your back on the cold floor staring at the whiteness of your ceiling. You feel something gushing out of your hand. Blood. You're injured. Probably from the tumbler you tossed on the wall or maybe from the pieces of glass that used to be a vase scattered two feet away from you. You're not sure. You don't know how you got the cut but it stings and you're bleeding out. You sit up and pull your shirt above your head and presses it on the wound. It hurts. Just like all the things in this house. It _hurts._

Monday rolled in. You were stoic before but you're robotic now. You only offer a thin smile to whoever greets you as you climb to your office. You are shattered inside, dejected and anguished but your people can't see that so you overcompensate in your wardrobe and make up and competence. You're impassive in meetings, your commentary and probing in the weekly reports almost send your marketing staff running for the door. Raven was there for the engineering bits and you know she noticed you're a little neurotic so you avoided her all week. The week was a blur of excessive caffeine and questioning everything from the size of paper to every word uttered. 

Raven and Anya group texted you on Thursday night for the Saturday brunch which you politely declined coming up with an excuse real enough so the pair won't get suspicious. But chances are, Raven had already shared with Anya how you've been intimidating staffs here and there. Still, you'd like to avert contact altogether. They let you get away with it this time. 

Not for long. 

Another week spent on keeping everybody on edge, even Tris could not look in your fiery eyes. In your defense, they're becoming a tad too complacent and took advantage of your good mood in the past weeks. The competition never sleeps so why should you. The upside is that you've come to accomplish more things in the last two weeks of holding everybody in the standard you hold yourself in. In Anya's choice of adjective – _exorbitant._ But that's something you will not apologize for. You're here to develop not only technology but also attitude and lifestyle. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, it's true. You've had the advantage since the beginning financial-wise but you've also worked hard to be where you are now. You acknowledge your privilege, your father had made sure it's the first lesson you learned but even with old money, the barrier of gender norms had made the playing field very uneven and unstable for a young _female_ CEO like you. 

The patriarchy was – _is_ unkind as Indra warned you since day one. Anya's mother wasn't just like a second mother to you but also a brilliant mentor. She uses very few words like Anya but her eyes communicate in greater depths. She was almost as young as you were when she was asked to take over their law firm; the same legal expertise that deals with your patents. She was hard on you but you understood her reasons. 

("You're parent-less and wealthy. And big bad guys come after for both." Indra had told you.) 

Indra's words were true enough. People have tried to swindle the company from under your grasp. Some of the board of directors didn't trust you to take over because you were as they described you – "a child". You were twenty for god's sake. There were waterworks the first few nights you didn't know what to do but Indra had made sure it's not going to happen again. If they're not going to take you seriously well, they leave you no choice but to make them and so you did. In the span of six years, you had built a reputation of your own; business journals have had your name, investors had flocked your corner and the remarkable professionals rallying behind you. Alexandria Woods isn't just a name of a woman anymore but a woman who had made a name for herself. A hard one to forget, you made sure of it. 

Your prowess in corporate matters however isn't as good as hiding from Anya. She's informing you of the brunch's location. You're about to decline again when another message pops up. 

**Anya:** _Raven invited Clarke. She might be onto something._

_Are you supposed to be telling me that?_

**Anya:** _I'm in no one's side. I'm on my side._

_Thanks for letting me know where your loyalty is._

**Anya:** _Are you coming or not?_

_No._

**Anya:** _But you like Clarke._

_Don't be presumptuous._

**Anya:** _Please, I saw how you look at her. And not just at her face._

You scoff. 

_I'll check my schedule._

It was a little arrogant even for you but you can't help it, you want to get under Anya's skin too if an opportunity presents itself. But it's also not a lie. In addition to that, you hate doing things just for compliance. If you're going to do something you need to mean it and right now being under Anya and Raven's microscope isn't very appealing considering how your precarious temper have been. And you don't really want Clarke to see that side of you. She's still pretty much a stranger and you don't want her to be weirded out around your occasionally aloof self. 

But _Raven_ is texting you. She's texting you to pick Clarke up for the brunch. Anya _was_ right, she's onto something. 

You find yourself bending to Raven's wishes promising she owes you one. She's also sent you Clarke's number with the winking emoji. _Fuck._

On Friday night, you made a decision to finally use Clarke's number. Should you just call? Shit. Fuck. You decided to type a text message instead. 

**Lexa [20:02]** _: Raven had asked me to pick you up tomorrow._

**Lexa [20:03]** _: Oh, this is Lexa._

You facepalmed yourself for failing to mention who you are in the first text. Why the hell are you feeling anxious? It escalates when the reply didn't come for another twenty minutes. Then, finally: 

**Clarke [20:24]** ** _:_** _Hi Lexa. You know Raven didn't have to ask you that. Commute is a thing._

**Lexa [20:06** **]** ** _:_** _I feel like we've been here before._

You found yourself joking and almost took it back because maybe you're not on that stage of being acquainted just yet. 

**Clarke [20:07]:** _HA!_

You grin. Guess you're on the same page. 

**Clarke [20:08]:** _But fine. Only if it's no trouble._

**Lexa [20:10]:** _It's not. Pick you up at 10?_

**Clarke [20:11]:** _See you tomorrow, Lexa._

**Lexa [20:12]:** _See you, Clarke._

You are so fucked. 


	5. when you give me those eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven meddles with Clarke's game. Things get fluffy-smuty-ish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting turn of events. But I'll let you be the judge of that.
> 
> 5K plus words of thirst and well, jump to the end if you're impatient to know.
> 
> Enjoy!

Your time-off is almost over and you have a decision to make. It's either you go back to Africa and continue your residency there or accept Polis General's offer. Africa was special and a year spent there doesn't feel enough, you need more of it. You crave the adrenaline, how your team became your extended family, the smiles people had given you when you helped them; how they offered so much to you as gratitude when they had almost nothing for themselves. Your heart was always swelling with affection. You're woken up from your ruminations when your phone dinged. 

**Raven:** _You owe me, Griffin._

You narrow your eyes. Had you asked Raven for any favor when you were drunk? You don't remember anything except that you were _very_ drunk _._

_What?_

**Raven:** _I asked Lexa to pick you up tomorrow for our brunch. You need a ride, right?_

The little shit. Now, you're gonna have to worry about breathing problems again. 

_You did what now?_

_Why would you do that?_

**Raven:** _Because you're still out of the game, gotta help a girl out you're welcome btw_

_I'm very capable of scoring my own date if I want to._

**Raven:** _I challenge you to prove me wrong Griffin._

_Count on it._

**Raven:** _You're on._

Lexa had texted you some time after your conversation with Raven. You offered her an out feeling embarrassed for Raven's shamelessness but Lexa surprised you by not taking it. The last time Raven invited you, you were disappointed not to find her sitting beside Anya. You even took some effort to look more presentable than you did the last time you saw her. Raven had teased you for it of course. But tomorrow, you're going to see Lexa again, you find yourself quarrying your wardrobe at nine in the evening ditching the outfit you already prepared initially when you weren't expecting a green-eyed brunette to pick you up. 

The next morning, Lexa did not arrive at 10. Lexa was earlier than that. Your nerves spiraling a little out of control wishing you had woken up earlier than 8AM had you known Lexa was a very punctual person. Your mother had let Lexa in when she noticed Lexa leaning on her car waiting for you by the curb. Abby then padded to your room asking if you have a date you didn't tell her about. You blushed at the assumption, but corrected her saying Lexa is just giving you a ride on Raven's request. Abby didn't probe further. 

You had to catch your breath seeing Lexa comfortably sitting in your living room looking like _that._ White split neck long sleeves rolled to her elbows and front hem tucked to her dark jeans. A pair of sunglasses perched above her head. You're sporting a blue V-neck mini dress. The color had always made your eyes pop and the style highlights your curves. You had to ask for Octavia's judgment if it's not too much for a brunch considering it's not a date at all. The girl had approved so you went with it. 

"Sorry for making you wait." You mumbled. 

"It's okay, I was early." Lexa smiles. "You look great, Clarke." 

You're caught off guard by the compliment and Lexa sounding genuine and smiling at you like that. It almost knocked you off of your heels. 

"Thanks, so do you." You offer because does Lexa look great in _those_ jeans. "Shall we go?" 

You head out opening the door for Lexa and locking it behind. The drive is going to take thirty minutes tops if the traffic isn't bad. The first few minutes in the car was quiet, a little too quiet. You hope Lexa would start the conversation but she seems to be focused on driving; her hands gripping the wheel tight. You wonder if she's having any discomfort having you in her car but you did give her an out. But maybe she was just being too polite to refuse Raven. 

"Thanks again for driving all the way to give me a lift," you initiate. "And sorry about Raven." 

Lexa's attention turns to you with unfathomably deep green eyes. "Don't apologize, Clarke. It's my pleasure." 

You feel like you've stumbled two steps backward from where you began. Lexa seems quite withdrawn compared to the last time you were in her car. You try not to take it personally and accepted the silence if that's what Lexa is comfortable with. 

Raven and Anya ran a little late so you had to endure some more minutes with quiet Lexa. She did ask you how your vacation is going. You sort of answered in details while Lexa nodded with smiles not quite reaching her eyes. Finally, the pair strolled both flushed and Raven is practically _glowing._ Lexa gave Anya a knowing look which Anya ignored. You make a mental note to tease Raven later. 

"So, boss..." Raven starts. At that, you look at Raven then to Lexa and saw how Lexa swallowed hard like she's bracing herself for something. 

"You having fun terrorizing your employees?" Anya interjects. You furrow your brows feeling like you're on the outside of an inside joke. 

"I'm not terrorizing them," Lexa rolls her eyes. "Tech industry is demanding. I'm just making sure everyone's doing their job." 

"Does that include making Titus swallow his tongue and pee his pants?" Raven snickers. 

Raven had always been bold with her thoughts but you're not sure if she should be talking to her boss like that but you're also not surprised. Lexa is exasperated with the ongoing interrogation and you're worried her eyes would be facing her brain by the end of the meal if she won't stop rolling them. You still don't know what's going on. Is Lexa really a menacing boss? Raven seems unperturbed though. 

"Well, he didn't have to unearth someone else's mistake to prove a point. It was unnecessary. I just put him in his place." Lexa says coolly. 

"I'm on your side boss. Guy's a jerk." Raven adds. 

Anya hums in agreement. You're aware she's not working for Lexa but she seems to know every character in Lexa and Raven's discussion. You feel out of place. 

"Where have you been hiding for the past two weeks? Discover any new bar?" Anya pokes. 

Lexa looks at you like you're not supposed to know the answer to Anya's question, she looks... _embarrassed_? That's new. You wait for her to answer even if you feel like you're intruding in a private conversation. 

"No new bars. Just... been home." Her eyes are suddenly pale and watery as she looks down on her half-finished burger. 

Anya and Raven exchanged a worried look. Lexa didn't see it but you did. Lexa's left hand is resting on the edge of the table when you noticed a bandage on her palm and little cuts on the side of her forefinger. Raven and Anya noticed it too but Anya averted your gaze. Certainly, something is going on that you haven't been privy to. You want to ask Lexa but you don't want it to come off as prying. You can ask Raven but you know she won't say anything if it isn't her place to tell. 

The table has gone quiet when Raven restarts the conversation by asking you if you're already looking for a new car which you haven't because you don't really know if you're staying but Raven doesn't know this yet. She must have assumed you're staying for good. 

"I haven't." 

"Lexa loves cars." Raven says with such nonchalance that Lexa almost choked on her food. But to your surprise Anya nodded eagerly as she rubs Lexa's back. 

"I like cars alright," Lexa answers clearing her throat. "Sorry, wrong pipe." 

Raven smirks. You know the game she's playing, a kind of reverse cock block so she could gloat about it and high-five with Octavia. But you're keen to prove Raven wrong and if she's going to play dirty you need to up your game. Feeling brave, you played along with Raven's antics. 

"What kind of cars?" You say to Lexa. 

"You should just show Clarke, it's easier than talking about it." Raven buts in. 

Lexa appears nonplussed. But to her credit, she recovered quickly. "If Clarke wants to." 

"If it's no trouble." The sentence is exhausted by now but you're treading cautiously not to seem too eager. 

"I'm sure it's not." Anya mumbles behind the rim of her glass and you think you saw Lexa gave her a pointed look. 

Like it's routine, Raven and Anya parted ways with you and Lexa at the parking lot. On the drive to your house, you rebooted the topic about the car-hunting. 

"So, do you collect cars?" 

"That's hardly practical, Clarke. I do own some, but for now just two." Lexa tells you. 

"So what did Raven mean when she said just show me? And for now?" 

"Let's just say I like to go to car auctions." Lexa grins. "And yes, I'll show you. Are you maybe free tomorrow night?" 

You think the stars are aligning for you today. _Is Lexa asking you out? Play it cool, Clarke._

"Sure." 

"Great. Pick you up at 7?" A hint of smile playing across her beautiful face. 

"Okay." 

* * *

That night, you group texted Raven and Octavia about your date(?) with Lexa because you're feeling jittery all of a sudden and you need a little boost from your girlfriends. You do plan to ask Lexa out but you were gonna ease into friendship first but she sort of beat you to it. So much for taking your time. 

**Clarke:** _I know nothing about cars_

**Raven:** _Hence, the date Griffin_

**Clarke:** _I'm not even sure if it's a date_

**Octavia:** _Sounds like you just got asked out Clarke_

**Clarke:** _What do I even wear?_

**Octavia:** _Is it a formal event?_

**Clarke:** _I have no idea. Should I ask Lexa?_

**Raven:** _Absolutely not_

**Clarke:** _What the fuck should I wear?_

**Raven:** _Stop freaking out_

**Octavia:** _Just go for what makes you feel confident_

**Raven:** _Better overdressed than_ _under-dressed_

**Clarke:** _Okay?_

**Raven:** _You got this, Griffin._

* * *

You opted for a midrise coated dark skinny and a tank lace cami matched with a pair of black heels. You also prepared your beige coat in case the weather gets frosty. You're wearing a sleeveless top and is going to be near Lexa, you can't be worried about dying of hypothermia too. At 6:30, you're already downstairs fidgeting on your phone. Lexa texted five minutes ago that she's on her way. 

At 6:50, there's a knock. 

Nothing in your life could've prepared you for a Lexa wearing a leather jacket. You did a quick once-over. Lexa is sporting a black shirt tucked in her jeans with three buttons undone, her collarbones peeking and a pair of ankle boots. The chestnut curls cascading over her shoulders and those startlingly vivid green eyes looking into your whole being. You feel a rush of heat prickling on your unclothed arms creeping up to your cheeks. Your throat is suddenly arid. 

"Ready?" Lexa smirks, you must have been staring for too long. 

"Yep." 

You still don't know where Lexa is taking you but at least you're dressed similarly to her so that's one concern scratched off the list of the things you're worried about. Because you're also worried you're putting too much heed in this than Lexa is; worried of fucking things up. The list goes on. Apparently, you're competitive at overthinking. You're fidgeting with your phone again. 

"Clarke." 

"Clarke." You felt Lexa's hand taps your forearm softly. 

"Hmm?" 

"Are you okay?" Lexa eyes you with concern. "You're fidgeting. I had to call you twice." 

"Sorry," You say sheepishly. "I was just thinking." 

"I figured. What's on your mind?" 

"Where are we going?" You can't help but ask. 

"You'll see. We're close." She smiles at you like she's assuring you that everything's going to be just fine. 

Lexa parked the car in a dimly lit area. As you hop off, a strong breeze of crisp air envelopes you, a briny smell graces your nose. You see a dock not so far away and a _ship_? Lexa beckons you to follow her. As you approach closer, the ship is even bigger than you thought. Your jaw drops in awe. People are boarding the ship – men and women looking regal – wealthy people. _Lexa's_ people. 

"You ever been?" Lexa asks. 

"On a boat like this? No. Is this where the auction is?" You ramble. You can't quite grasp why an auction would be held at a cruise ship but Lexa only nods amused with how you can't quite hide your astonishment. 

"C'mon." Lexa tugs at your hand – _is_ holding your hand in hers. Your breathing hitched and your face is probably a shade of red. Thank heavens it's dark. 

The receiving lounge resembles a five star's hotel lobby, a huge chandelier hanging at the center. There is no banner or whatever signifying an event then it occurred to you – this is a private invite only function. Lexa produces two strips of glossy paper from her jacket pocket which you suppose are tickets. 

"Welcome, Ms. Woods. Pleasure of having you back." The guy with a neck tattoo greets Lexa with a toothy grin and courteously dips his head at you. 

"Thank you, Quint." 

You followed Lexa through a metal door after you check your coat in. It's comfortably warm inside the ship so you didn't mind. Lexa ushers you inside with a hand at the small of your back. It was a huge area of the ship almost like a very large auditorium without the chairs, the floor in red carpet; spotlights angled to highlight the beauty of vintage cars luring the auction goers. You've never seen so many vintage cars in one place before. You gape at your current view. Auction goers roaming around, placing bids over another. You saw a guy put a bid with too many zeros for a vintage jeep. 

Lexa is just observing you as you look around, you haven't seen her place a bid on any car. Maybe she's just here to participate as one of the city's elite. 

"Do you own a vintage car?" 

Lexa nods. "But not a piece I bought in auctions. It wasmy dad's. An Austin-Healey 3000." 

_Was._

You have no idea what kind of car is that but you try to memorize the model for future googling. 

"Have you ever bought one from auctions?" You inquire. You continue to circle around a midnight blue VW Beetle. 

"Twice." Lexa stands on the other side of the beetle as she observes you with her hands behind her back so you had to walk closer to her to answer when she asked, "Do you like this Beetle, Clarke?" 

"It's cute." You shrug. 

Lexa's mouth stretched into a smile. "I believe so." 

It's already been established that you have zero knowledge about cars except that you know how to drive one so you're not worried about commenting "cute" on a Volkswagen Beetle because it _is_ cute. Still, you hope Lexa doesn't think any less of you now. 

Another hour passed; champagne was served so you're feeling a light buzz as you try to pay attention as Lexa recites information about the old car in front you. Lexa must really be into cars to know so much about them but you can't focus on the car part because you're too distracted with Lexa's killer jaw and plump bottom lip. You're intoxicated with Lexa's legs for days as she saunters away to procure another glass of champagne for you. Everything about Lexa's outfit tonight and just Lexa overwhelms you. It's too much your knees are about to buckle. 

Your last stop is a Mercedes SL 300 Gullwing. Out of all the cars in the room, it's the one you took in longer. The silver exterior and tangerine upholstery. You marvel at it wishing you could afford and drive one even for just a minute. 

"You like this one?" Lexa queries. 

"It's beautiful." 

"Among the first sports cars of the post-war era, the Mercedes SL 300 Gullwing was the fastest production car of its time when it was introduced in 1954." Lexa supplies. 

"How fast can it go?" 

"A hundred and sixty miles per hour." 

"That's pretty fast, right?" 

Lexa chuckles. "Yes, Clarke. It's fast." 

You let your own smile show because if your ignorance could pull a sound as lovely as that from Lexa, you won't mind at all. Your time together though you fear is coming to an end, a small twisting feeling in your stomach surfaced as soon as you reached the end of the auction hall. 

You exited where you went in. You assume that the night is over, feeling a little disappointed you took your coat and wait for Lexa to come out of the door. You expect her to lead you out of the ship but she didn't. 

"Dinner's at the deck." Lexa motioned for you to hook your arm around hers so you happily obliged. You thanked her for offering the arm when you almost tripped on the way up. 

You really got to give it to Lexa. The deck – to say exquisite is an understatement. It's adorned with round tables draped with white tablecloth and cushioned chair, warm lights and a fucking live band serenading the diners with soft jazz. The ambiance is too romantic for this not to be a date. You're just trying so hard to hold back in asking Lexa if this was a date because all of the voices in your head says that it is including one who sounds suspiciously like Octavia. 

If this was a date, it's definitely the most romantic one you've ever experienced. _Yet_. 

You were guided to a table for two – _reserved_. How on earth did Lexa manage to set a reservation for this place on a day's notice? Seeing how the deck is full, Lexa must really have connections to pull. The place is obviously high-end, not your usual fancy dining though. 

You wonder if this is just a friendly night out for Lexa. You wonder if she had taken Anya and Raven to this kind of things. You wonder if she had invited other women to dine here with her, floating in the ocean with a candle-lit table. 

The food was phenomenal. Lexa seems self-satisfied of her choice of venue hearing you moan and hum on every bite until your plate is finished. She ordered some wine to go with the light conversation. You were both quiet during your dinner, savoring the four-course meal; the undulating lap of waves drowned out in lighthearted music. 

The string of lights reflecting on Lexa's stunning green eyes, casting a pale shadow on her gorgeous face. You could look at her all night. You could just stay this way. But you know the night is getting deeper and it's going to end no matter how much you want to hold onto it. You try to take everything in – the charismatic old cars, Lexa's guiding hand on your back, the smirks and smiles and laugh you managed to draw out of this beautiful specimen, the innocent and unaware hand-holding not to lose each other in the crowd of coats and silk and cotton; the scent of Lexa's perfume, Lexa's gaze, _Lexa._

"So, what do you think?" Lexa asks, her euphonious voice pulling you back to real time. 

"Of the glorified old cars or this gigantic watercraft?" You quip. 

It produced a good-humored chuckle from the brunette but her tone is curious when she spoke again. "Of this night." 

The slight intoxication boosts your courage and seeing Lexa enjoying herself, your own curiosity gets the best of you so you took a chance. "If this was a date, consider me swept off of my three inches heels." 

Lexa's shoulders stiffen a little, you considered retracting your answer but she smirks and says, "And if this wasn't?" 

"If this wasn't, I'd ask how much better Anya and Raven gets from your friendship considering I'm basically a stranger and I get a table at a cruise ship." 

"Hmm," Lexa's expression is unreadable. She leans on the table forward as she rests her crossed arms on the edge. "In that case, I'm not answering that." 

It's your turn to be taken aback. A hint of mischief is playing in Lexa's eyes and the smirk still there like she's waiting for you to answer, like she's _provoking_ you. 

But you're unfazed and a little drunk, you can blame your brazen behavior on the champagne later. "Then I'm sort of glad you beat me to it." 

" _Oh?_ " 

"Please, like you weren't aware of Raven's theatrics." 

"Anya might have sold her girlfriend out, said Raven might be onto something." 

"Maybe I should give them the credit then." 

Your smile widens when Lexa feigns offense. "Here I thought I had swept Doctor Clarke Griffin off of her feet." 

"Be careful of what you wish for." 

"I certainly have the reputation of knowing what I want." 

The open flirtation has significantly lightened your trepidation that Lexa's intent doesn't align with yours. Although it might be too early to say but you feel there's something in this that you'd like to explore further. You want to get to know Lexa more and not just her extensive knowledge about cars and extravagant choice of restaurants. You hope Lexa feels the same way and that her coquettish grin isn't just fueled by inebriation and romantic setting. 

On your way back to Lexa's car, there's a new closeness arising that scrapes on the surface of intimacy. Again, it's possible that you're just mutually beat with expensive alcohol but you welcome it anyway. You shudder as the ocean breeze nips on your arms the coat can only do so much with your skin bare underneath. You're about to regret your choice of clothing when Lexa slides her arm around your shoulder blades, her advantage in height is a perfect excuse to slant your head to her shoulders to seek more warmth. Lexa didn't seem to mind as she also looks freezing even with the leather jacket. 

It's not particularly shocking when Lexa opened the passenger's side for you but you blushed all the same with the gesture having Lexa offered you a ride a few times now but she never really opened it for you until tonight. You rub your palms together while Lexa climbs up the car. She immediately shuts the door. 

"Are you okay?" She asks noticing how urgent you are rubbing your hands together. 

"Yeah, just a little cold." You lie, too embarrassed to admit you're freezing your butt off with so much skin unclothed under your coat. 

"Take your coat off." Lexa instructs. 

For a hot second, you thought Lexa jumped an entire flight of stairs from your unconfirmed dating status and is blatantly suggesting a car sex. Though it could be an efficient strategy to produce body heat, you're not sure if Lexa's car is two-way tinted. But you keep your thoughts to yourself when you see Lexa taking her jacket off and offering it to you. 

"I think that's really unwise right now." 

"I'll warm up in a few minutes, Clarke." Lexa is leaking chivalry from her pores and you're just uselessly _swooning_. 

"Are you sure?" You hesitate to take the jacket. "If you die of hypothermia, Anya and Raven will kill me with Anya beating me up first." 

Lexa rolls her eyes but laughs. "Don't be dramatic, Clarke. You're freezing, take the jacket." 

You relent, wishing Lexa really runs warmer than you are because you're sure Anya will not think twice in demonstrating her MMA skills if anything were to happen to Lexa. You take off your coat to put on Lexa's jacket. While you're occupied covering yourself up, you notice from the corner of your eyes that Lexa is _unmoving_ with the likelihood of staring at your display of skin. You purposefully slowed putting the jacket on _._ She averted your eyes when you finished, you smirk. As Lexa turns to you asking if you're all set up, her eyes are huge and dark. 

_Fuck._

You feel a sensation pooling in your lower stomach. You wish the cold didn't sober you up on the way back to still have the liquid courage but you find yourself in a predicament not wanting to fuck up the renewed rapport with Lexa in making a move to close the distance between your lips and hers. You stall. 

Lexa seems to be having the same quandary; her fingers drum on the steering wheel nervously, her teeth digging on her lower lip too hard it might just bleed. You're crossing and uncrossing your legs and fidgets with your hands. You don't look at each other but studies each other's movement from your peripheral vision. 

The low hum of the car's engine and scratch of tires on the asphalt are the only noise you hear other than the loud hammering beneath your rib cage. Lexa is awfully quiet but so are you. The silence stretches with miles covered. Lexa kept drumming her fingers and you kept crossing and uncrossing your legs. 

"Clarke." You hear Lexa say. 

"Hmm?" 

"Stop that," Lexa replies glancing at your thighs. "Or I'm gonna have to pull over." 

At Lexa's verbal confirmation of mutual attraction, you feel undaunted and actually says, "What's stopping you?" 

The car came to a halt. It's late and a Sunday night so there's barely any vehicle on the road. The situation escalated rather quickly when Lexa's seat belt clicks loose and her hands are cupping your face, her mouth on yours. The angle is awkward with your own seat belt still fastened. Lexa's other hand skates to your side and unfastens the safety harness. You immediately readjust your position by climbing to Lexa's lap without pulling apart, she pins her hands on each side of your waist steadying you. Your chest is heaving with adrenaline and the air in the car is suddenly thick it's making you pant in Lexa's mouth. 

Lexa's kisses are desperate and full of want. Her tongue grazing your bottom lip, you chase it with yours. You trace her sharp jaws with your fingertips followed by peppering kisses from the corner of her mouth to those perfect cheekbones and back. Your hands roam from her shoulder blades to her sides, craving for skin contact you tug her shirt untucking it and sliding your hands to her toned stomach. Your mouth on Lexa's is hot and wet, the sensation building up between your legs as Lexa sucks on your pulse point and drops wet kisses on your neck. 

"Fuck..." You breathe in Lexa's mouth. 

"Do you want to stop?" Lexa slows down without fully stopping. 

"Yes...No. Fuck." 

"Which is it Clarke?" Lexa stops after kissing you full on the mouth. 

"How far from your place?" 

"Maybe ten minutes, tops." 

"Okay." You climbed down back to the passenger's seat. "Drive." 

* * *

It was the direst ten minutes of your life even when Lexa is almost running red lights to make the drive to her place as short as possible. Neither of you talked on the way; the bouncing of your knees becoming frantic, Lexa's eyes are hyper-focused on the road ahead. If you weren't so distracted by the building tension on your thighs and the throbbing desire you would swear that the velocity Lexa is going could alert a patrol officer hidden in the bushes. Luckily, that didn't happen because you don't think you can endure anything any further and you _need_ to be pressed against Lexa now. 

And then there's the slowest elevator you're sharing with a group of drunken people. You and Lexa were pushed on the back with fingers brushing. Lexa is rubbing her palms on her jeans, jaws grinding. Finally, fucking finally, you reached Lexa's floor and the both of you bolted from the elevator. Lexa fumbles for the keys for the double lock and punched her codes while you idly stand in the hallway waiting for the door to open. 

The door slams shut behind you as Lexa kicks it with her heels and pins you on the door with a soft thud. Your hands found purchase on Lexa's waist. Lexa pushes your coat off of your shoulders and groans at the sight of her own jacket. You laugh. Lexa pouts and you want to kiss it away. 

"You're the one who insisted I wear this." 

"Take it off now." Lexa commands and you feel the arousal in your whole body spikes. Lexa is kicking her boots off while you're sliding off of the leather jacket. You reconnect your mouths in a bruising kiss backing Lexa by the couch and crashes with a thump. Each of your knees falls on either side of her thighs and Lexa pulling you closer by hooking her fingers in your belt loops. She tugs at your top and pulls it over your head. You trade feverish kisses and getting dirtier with each passing glide and chasing each other's tongues in muffled growls and hitched breaths. 

You attack the buttons on Lexa's shirt while she fumbles for the zipper of your skinny jeans. In a swift motion, Lexa switches your position and you're lying with your back on the cushion. She threads a thigh between yours as she drags her tongue on your exposed throat. You let out a shuddering moan and shamelessly grinds on Lexa. Your back arches as your body meets hers. She softly kisses your clavicles down to your sternum and smoothly slides her hand underneath to unclasp your bra. The lacy material landed somewhere in Lexa's living room as she tosses it carelessly. 

Lexa's face momentarily goes slack at the vision. You allow a smirk; Lexa took it as a challenge and quickly swirls a tongue on one while palming the other. Your body is tingling in anticipation with Lexa's every move. But Lexa is taking her time in places that _can_ wait. You need her somewhere else _now._

_"_ Lexa, _please._ " 

Lexa descends between your legs, hooking her fingers to your pants and shimmies them down. You kick the garment off until it falls. Lexa slowly rakes her fingers on your legs to the insides of your thighs. It's too much. "Lexa..." 

Propped on her elbows, Lexa starts to drop wet and scorching kisses on your bare skin until she finally tugs your panties down and cups the throbbing wetness. Your hips roll in response. 

" _Fuck,_ Clarke." Lexa breathes on your mouth. 

Her thumb makes circling motion to your clit as her slender fingers glide to your folds, _teasing_ as you despair for more contact. The rolling of your hips becoming desperate and kisses getting harder and deeper. You can feel your wetness dripping on your thighs and finally, Lexa thrusts two fingers inside making you gasp in her neck and digs your fingernails on her back. "Faster...please..." 

Lexa obeys and quickens her pace pulling in and out adding a third finger, thumbing your clit and sending you over the edge as your head dips back and your eyes slam shut. "Fuck!" 

Lexa rubs your clit with the heel of her palm and rides your orgasm until the shuddering slows, kissing you with want, less urgent but still firm and soft. Her kisses descend from the corner of your lips to the base of your throat. 

You're prepared to pin her on the couch when she suddenly lifts you up. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around her waist, the show of strength reignites the arousal below your stomach. 

Lexa didn't pull away as if addicted from the taste of your lips eliciting soft moans as she carries you to her bed. She lowers you on the mattress and when you felt your back touches her silk sheets, your hands find purchase on Lexa's waist making their way to the buttons of her pants. You mirrored Lexa's movement not so long ago on the couch and press her on her back. Lexa smirks. 

You proceeded to tug the pants down with her underwear until Lexa is bare except for her breasts still encased in the same lacy bra that matched her panties. Lexa's eyes are pitch black with lust as she looks at you, her hands splayed on your lower back. Kissing Lexa is consuming and blistering, your skin prickles with ardor. You can't seem to get enough of that perfect pout. 

Lexa's bra comes off at one point as you greedily suck on her breasts. You're moaning and panting from the apparent lack of oxygen. You drop your lips to Lexa's jaw to come up for air, tracing it with your tongue licking your way to the soft patch of skin just below her ear. You suck on the base of Lexa's throat marking your every touch. Lexa's back lifts off the bed as you drag your tongue on her sternum and laps on her breasts. Your hands roam until you find Lexa's wet slick, craving for your attention. 

Lexa is gently pushing your shoulders down. Taking the hint, you make your way down kissing her hipbones with tongue. You hook your hands under Lexa's thighs spreading them wide for more leverage. The first swipe of your tongue made Lexa's hips roll as her head dips back with chestnut waves falling on the pillow. You moan from tasting Lexa and the vision of this beautiful woman writhing from your touch. 

You take all of Lexa in, drinking and lapping at her wetness until expletives are being yelled adhered to your name. But you're not nearly done just yet. You tease Lexa's opening making passes of your fingers and circling on her clit, making Lexa crave you more. Lexa is panting, her chest heaving in anticipation. You enter her with one finger which made Lexa beg, "Clarke... more... please." 

Two fingers followed, burying them knuckle-deep. You thrust in and out, attuned to every sound and reaction Lexa is making; memorizing Lexa's breathing and what she likes. What she _wants._

Lexa comes trembling in pleasure under you. Moaning your name and kissing you wet and sloppy on the mouth as she comes down from the high – the high that _you_ gave her. Lexa is beautiful. 

As you both catch your breath, you lay beside Lexa propped on your elbow watching the other girl with the same desire as making her scream your name. As she becomes aware of your gaze, Lexa smiles and startles you with a chaste kiss on the lips. 

"What was that for?" You inquire with a smile. 

"That was for the mind-blowing sex, Clarke." 

You chuckle. You've never felt more satisfied in your life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was my first time writing smut. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. the few things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why is it  
> that when the story ends  
> we begin to feel all of it
> 
> ~the sun and her flowers

The crack of curtains grants access to the flurry of morning air and pale glow of sunlight from Lexa's window. Your cheek is currently pressed to a mushy ball of pillow with your lower half covered in rumpled silk sheets. You open your eyes slowly, feeling sore from last night's activities, you can hardly move your legs to switch on your other side and look at Lexa. Because apparently, Lexa isn't only ruthless in business but also in making you realize that you should have carb-loaded in advance. You underestimated the girl's stamina and you were too smug about yours. 

You try to move as gently as you can to shift on the mattress, hoping Lexa is still in deep sleep so you can admire her gorgeous face just a little longer. But Lexa's side is empty. You run a palm on the vacant sheet, it's cold. Lexa must be a morning person. You try to sit up and assess the room for any signs of chocolate curls and toned limbs. 

Most of the surface is white from walls to ceiling; the dressers in beige, a vanity desk with cushioned wooden chair. Everything seems to be in order, not a loose hair tie on the floor. 

You find your clothes neatly folded on a chair at the foot of the bed. On top of it there's a note in spruce handwriting. You read what it says: 

_Clarke,_

_Sorry to leave so early, urgent matters to tend to. Make yourself at home. The apartment is stocked if you're hungry (You must be). Shower if you want to. My car will be waiting whenever you decide to leave. Please look for Ryder, he'll be downstairs. He can drive you home._

_Lexa_

You're a little disappointed of waking up alone but Lexa's note had produced butterflies rampantly fluttering in your stomach creating a stupid grin on your face. You're probably still high from the marathon of pleasure you shared with Lexa last night. The thought of Lexa triggers your memory of all the sounds you pulled out from the brunette colliding with your own like fireworks. You think you have catalogued every spot on Lexa's body that makes her tremble under your fingertips, every swipe of her tongue, the tempo of her fingers thrusting and hooking inside of you. You wish Lexa was right here right now. 

You take up Lexa on the shower. You wince as the water hits your skin. You inspect your body on the mirror afterwards; a set of bite marks just above your breasts, dots of purple and blue tattooed on your hipbones in a downward direction. You smile, recalling how you acquired the marks. 

You decided against the breakfast. Even though Lexa had offered, it doesn't feel right to sit and consume Lexa's food without Lexa. You study her place instead; everything is immaculately in place. Her choice of color palette is minimalistic limited to beige, white and gray. There's a shelf of thick books by the wall, a set of workout equipment by the window and a single midnight blue coat suspended on the coat hanger by the door. 

You also decided against the ride and booked a car instead. You texted Lexa while you were on the way home. There was no reply, Lexa must really be caught up in work. You remember that it's Monday. 

You finally reached your house and Lexa hasn't replied yet still. You try to ignore the urge to pen another text for it might look too needy. You shove your phone to your pocket as you lock the door behind you. Failing to see your mother sitting by the kitchen with a mug in her hands, you tiptoe your way upstairs and suddenly, "Clarke?" Abby calls. 

"Hi, mom." You feel like a teenager getting caught from sneaking out of the house past your curfew. 

"Where were you?" Her tone is not accusing, curious maybe. 

You figured there's no point in lying and she probably already asked Raven or Octavia since you didn't make it home last night. "I was out with Lexa. Sorry I wasn't able to call." 

Your mother only hums and nods, expression unreadable. But you're deeply hoping she would let you go to sleep now because you don't really want to elaborate on the reason why. 

"Have you decided yet?" Abby prods. 

It took you an extra second to realize to which conclusion your mother is referring to because right now you only have one decision in mind and that is to sleep a little longer in clean clothes. 

"I haven't." 

"Clarke, residency isn't something you should be taking lightly." 

"I know. But can we talk about this later? I'm a little tired." 

"Okay, honey. But remember, you barely have a week to make the call." 

* * *

A week. 

Sleep never came as your mother's words reverberated in the corners of your mind. It's a big decision. Another four to five years and that's a lot of time to be away if you decide to choose Africa. You have six days to decide, it's making you anxious. 

You toss and turn on your twin-sized bed as you juggle the pros and cons of staying and going. You haven't even told Raven and Octavia yet that there's a likelihood that they will not be seeing you for another half a decade. They're going to be sad if you go but you know they will support you whatever you decide. A year ago, you didn't have to put so much thought about jumping on a plane for an opportunity to be on a different land; you were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. As a young doctor, you were hungry for experience, you wanted to know how far you can go outside your comfort zone and ultimately, you just wanted to breathe. 

Africa compelled you not just to be a better physician but also to be aware of people's existence outside the walls of your own country. Sure, there is international news but that doesn't represent the whole picture like you witnessed by being there yourself. It was hard at first, the homesickness and heat and exhaustion. But with time passing, you acclimated and eventually the dryland felt like a second home. It was liberating and humbling all together. For the first time, your impulsivity yielded satisfaction. 

But right now, another factor has come to light making your deliberation a bit more grueling. It was one date and one night. It shouldn't be working you up like this but it is and it's killing all your other thoughts. You check your phone for any new message: nothing. 

* * *

The next day, you met with Raven and Octavia for lunch. You contemplate whether you should tell them about your quandary and at the same time you're hoping they could help you settle this once and for all. It's gloomy outside like it's about to rain. Somehow that's also how you're feeling, you stare at the window looking for answers in the clouds. 

"Clarke, stop daydreaming." Octavia mumbles with a mouthful of veggies. 

"One night and Lexa have rendered you scatterbrained. I thought you had better will power than that, Griffin." Raven mocks. 

"Was _it_ that good?" Octavia smirks. 

"My sex life is my business." You dismiss. 

"Oh, so there was sex. Hmm-hm." 

You close your eyes and braces yourself for more. At your own slip, you just fed yourself to the wolves. 

"Where did Lexa take you...before her place?" Raven wiggles her eyebrows. 

"Did you just invite me to lunch for interrogation?" 

Raven and Octavia looks at each other for a moment and turn to you simultaneously. "Yes." 

You know they will not let you leave your seat until you tell them the whole story. With Raven and Octavia, there's really no point in fighting, it's like being trapped in quicksand. It's essentially the foundation of your life-long friendship – they tease and you take it like a champ. 

"An auction for vintage cars in a cruise ship." You share. 

"That's extra." Octavia remarks. 

"I'm not surprised." Raven smiles eagerly. 

Raven's answer reels you back to your thoughts that night; Do Raven and Anya get the same treatment? Did Lexa spend as much effort or more in her past relationships? You need answers. Lexa's radio silence since the note have been troubling you. You need to ask Raven. 

"Was she with anyone recently?" 

"No, not recently." Raven answers in a solemn voice. 

You nod in acquiescence. The look in Raven's eyes are the same ones you saw on the day you noticed Lexa's hand bandage. 

"I haven't heard from her since I left her apartment yesterday morning. She was gone when I woke up. Have you seen her?" You query in a low voice. You don't care if you sound needy and besides Raven will not judge you for being truthful in how you feel. 

"I haven't," Raven shakes her head. "I actually thought she didn't come in yesterday because everyone was eerily calm." 

But Lexa said she _had_ matters to tend to. You don't probe further. Lexa doesn't owe you anything let alone an explanation on why she hasn't called you back. It was probably a one-time thing. Maybe you really read so much into it. You've gone quiet but it didn't go unnoticed by your best friends exchanging looks of concern. You don't date for just for fun, at least not anymore. Your last relationship didn't end well and frankly, the prospect of pining over someone not interested to commit is the last thing you need right now. 

"Maybe she just had to deal with other things outside the office. I could mention you were asking if see her today?" Raven offers. 

"Please don't." You say nonchalantly but Raven can see through you. 

"Clarke, if it's bothering you–" 

"It's fine, Rae. It was probably just sex." 

"Clarke," Octavia coos. 

"Let's just drop it." 

Fortunately for you, Raven and Octavia let it go. You force yourself to look not as dejected as you feel, smiling so that your best friends won't have to worry. You're well-aware that the three of you know each other like the back of your hands that even a slight change of tone will give away the façade you're trying to construct so try your best to be okay. 

You decided to finally tell them about the residency offer. You're in despair, you need all the advice you can get and the anxiety is taking its toll on you. You hardly slept last night ruminating over it and the other thing you can't think about right now. As you expected, they support you on whatever you think is the best route to take. Unhelpful but the comfort is always welcome especially now. 

"It'll suck not to have my weekly dose of teasing you but if you want to go back, I'm just gonna have to wait until you come home." Octavia says sweetly. 

"We'll just visit you. I can't wait half a decade for that." Raven adds and you laugh. 

You talked more about the residency and they helped identify and weigh down your pros and cons. The tension of talking about Lexa have ebbed away and the subject forgotten replaced with laughter and easy conversation. This is one of the moments that there's an overflowing gratitude in your heart for both women. As far as best friends go, you hit a pot of gold. 

* * *

Days are passing too fast spent in so much TV and takeout. Abby is barely home covering shifts as favors so you have the house mostly to yourself. When you're not binge-watching any show, you're cleaning. You're doing just anything for your mind not to wander where you don't want it. But, is it really just your mind having difficulty focusing? 

Since Monday, there have been a pinching sensation in your chest that won't seem to go away. It resembles the feeling associated with fear mixed with anticipation. It’s like your always on the edge of bolting for the door. It's maddening. 

After your lunch with Raven and Octavia, you concluded on a deadline for your final decision – Friday. And that is tomorrow. Your anxiety has significantly diminished when you got home that afternoon; composure in place and an actual smile on your lips in the momentarily absence of unrest linking to Lexa's failure of response to a string of texts you sent. Until, you found your mother cooking your favorite dishes too early for dinner – for _three._

You were aware that your mother is dating but you didn't know it's as serious as wanting to tie the knot. And most importantly not in three months. Seriously, you were gone for a year, you didn't even know they're still together. Were you that clueless of the things happening around you? 

The unforeseen circumstance of your mother's nearing wedding which apparently only applies to you revived the unease that was bubbling in your gut. It's not that you're not happy for her because that's all you ever wanted since your father's passing. Marcus is a good man. It all just took you by surprise, you don't know how you should react. But as an adult you sat in the dining table across from the man who was asking _you_ for your mother's hand in marriage. You gaped at both of them. Even though Marcus was seeking for your blessing, your mother was simply _announcing._ To a single audience. To you. 

So, today you go for a walk alone. The weather is crisp, you can see the steam from your mouth as you breathe. There's hardly anyone up for a stroll out on a Thursday afternoon in the bleakness of the park but you. 

Jake loved afternoon walks. It was a habit you shared with your father while growing up. Sometimes he'd take you for ice cream too but you were just contented to spend time with him as much as you can. He was mostly away on trips given the nature of his job. He was your best friend before you met Raven and Octavia. He was an excellent man – clever and charming. He thought he was funny and you adored him not for his jokes but for always trying to cheer you up on days you needed it. You wish he's here to give you more insights about life-changing decisions. Jake was lighthearted unlike your mother who is the calculated one. And today, you miss him just a little more. 

A tear threatens to roll down on your pale cheek, you let it. Then, comes another and another. You sob, as quiet as you can trying not to alarm anyone nearby. You're seated on a bench with the company of trees and cold, both of your hands shoved in the pocket of your coat. You wipe the tears with the back of your hand but it won't stop trickling. The sadness you feel is devouring; the memories that used to make you smile is making you doleful. It _hurts_. 

You're startled by a set of boots in front of you and a handkerchief being offered, a blue and green checkered held by lean and delicate fingers. You must be hallucinating. You've only held that same hand twice but you'll recognize it anywhere. You slowly raise your head to confirm and there in your bleary vision stands the person you have slowly accepted you won't hear from again. 

Lexa is looking at you with unusually pale green eyes. There are no words coming out of your mouth, no strength in your arms to take Lexa's hanky. She retracted her hand and slowly crouched down on your eye-level. She's wearing a parakeet scarf coiled regally around her neck and she's unwinding it as you continue to stare unable to form any words. She gently wraps the scarf around your neck and tenderly wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

"Why are you out here, Clarke? You're easily cold." Lexa softly says tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

You're confused why Lexa is here in front of you after days of unanswered messages and ghost-like silence from her end effectuating a stillness on yours. But your stomach is flipping with the attentiveness Lexa is giving you at this moment. You want to freeze the time as Lexa's finger briefly brushes on your jaw flooding your chest with warmth you didn't know you're craving until now. 

Your addled brain is having trouble processing your emotions conflicting like wildfire causing a temporary wordlessness at Lexa's unexpected presence. You're acutely aware of your breathlessness in contrast with Lexa's calm and even breathing; the pinching sensation inside doubled at the sight of the brunette. You're disoriented from the perforation of safe-kept memories of your father spilling from your eyes while your wits wrestle for a coherent sentence to take shape. 

"I needed a walk." You croaked. 

Lexa only nods. She's rising from the crouched position and you suspect she's leaving but, "Do you mind?" She asks gesturing on the bench. You shake your head almost too eagerly. 

"Why are you here, Lexa?" 

"Because you're here." 

You sigh, deep and breathy. "I don't know what that means." 

"Why were you crying?" Lexa asks but she doesn't look at you. You're dumbstruck at the forwardness the question carries but Lexa's voice is velvet, a lullaby somehow soothing the ache in the origin of your tears. 

Instead of an answer, there are questions rising to your throat; unquiet and tumultuous. The inquisitive desire to know what made Lexa abandon the comfort of her bed and the company of a naked girl on an early Monday morning. What was the purpose of her reticence? Why is she here _now?_

"I used to go here with my dad when I was a kid." 

"Where is he now?" Unaware of your father's deadness, Lexa inquires. 

"Dead." 

Lexa's head instantly pivoted to look at you with regretful eyes. "I'm sorry, Clarke." 

"It's okay, it was a long time ago. I was fifteen when he passed." You wipe another tear. "My mother is getting married." 

"Oh," Lexa pauses. "Is that not what you want?" 

"I don't think I'm ready." 

"Of what, Clarke?" 

"Of my mom forgetting my dad." You confide to Lexa. There is something about Lexa's presence that disarms your will to hold back, stripping you bare to honesty. You feel vulnerable but safe at the same time. 

"Do you think that's possible?" 

"I don't know. Do you?" 

For a brief moment before Lexa blinked it away, you saw a look of panic in her eyes. She averts your curious gaze and swallows hard, promptly biting her bottom lip. You fear she'll never answer and will leave you without any resolution. 

Seconds stretch like forever. As the afternoon mutates into nightfall the temperature notably drops together with the yearning to be let in into Lexa's thoughts and maybe just faintly perhaps in her heart as well. 

Just as you were willing your legs to stand and leave before Lexa does _again,_ she answers in a firm tone but low just for you to hear. "I think it's possible to love again, Clarke." 

"I mean, I obviously don't know your parents but if your mom loved him so much which I suspect was the case, I don't think being able to love someone again means she loved him any less." Lexa appends. 

It makes a compelling case. But you're more intrigued by Lexa's choice of word. "You _suspect?_ " 

"Yes." Lexa smiles like she knows something you don't. You quirk your eyebrows to urge Lexa to elaborate. 

"It's just, you're you. There wouldn't be someone like you if your parents didn't love each other very much, Clarke." 

The stirring agitation in your stomach metamorphosize into a kaleidoscope flapping uncontrollably discharging heat waves that makes your arms tingle and ears' tip tinted pink. 

"Smooth talker." 

"Thank you." Lexa feigns nonchalance hiding a smirk and for the first time today, you smile – the kind that you can't contain, something too genuine to be stowed away. 

You both stayed seated quietly on the bench for a few more minutes. Hands not touching but eyes locking every now and again. You both ignore the elephant in the room; the reason for deprived sleep and abnormal heart rhythm that doesn't exactly have anything to do with a heart disease. But if aching to touch someone you barely know and longing for the solace she breathes can be considered as such then, yes – you're decidedly and terminally ill. 

It's dark except for the distant glow of lamps littered around the park creating a silhouette of Lexa's body and her head tilted towards the sky. The frigid air creeps up under your clothes your teeth gently chattering, you wrap your coat to your body tighter. The night expands to a lull; the crickets' song subdued by thick branches of leaves, murmur of distant engines and blaring of horns. 

Lexa seems content of _this._ She hasn't moved an inch from where she sat since she arrived, didn't suggest to leave, hasn't complained of the growing cold. You rise from your seat and stretches out a hand to Lexa and prays she take it. 

She did. 

Her palm is as warm as you remember it to be. The transfer of heat from her hand to yours sends tingles to your spine and reignites the butterflies that were falling asleep in the cold. Your knees wobble as you take one step over another. Lexa interlaced your fingers, gently squeezes once and falls into step with you. It's too good to be true. 

The impulse to ask Lexa why she hasn't answered any of your messages in the past couple of days is lodged in your throat. But you're holding back in fear of ruining this moment too perfect for an interrogation to satisfy your burning need for answers. Maybe it can wait. 

Being with Lexa has always left you short-winded with knees buckling and brain short-circuiting. You've known her in less than a month, you know it's a very short amount of time and you've had your fair share of the twists and turns of relationships with both men and women but no one has ever made you feel the way that Lexa does. And _this_ is one of the few things that you're sure of. 

"Clarke?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Of course." 

"Uh," Lexa looks down on her feet like she can't get the words out of her mouth while looking into your eyes. Like she's about to say something you won't like. The anxiety you have been feeling since Monday seeps back to your bones. 

"Is it okay if we... become friends?" 

_Friends._

How can a one word with one syllable feels like a spear gradually impaling your skin through the spaces of your ribs and finally to your heart. 

_Friends._

"You mean _just_ friends?" 

Lexa bites her lip which makes matters worse for you. "Yes, Clarke." 

"Can I ask why?" 

"I-" Lexa hesitates. _Why Lexa? Was I reading the signals wrong?_

"It's okay, you don't have to explain anything to me. It was just sex and nothing more." 

"Clarke– " 

You wait. But Lexa is staring at her feet again. Your lungs struggle to contract and expand with the air in it evaporating away. Maybe there isn't an explanation. But you felt sure that Lexa feels the same way. Your memory from meeting Lexa for the first time to this moment replays in your mind like a slideshow as you look for any indication that you might have missed which could've told you that the auction night was nothing but a foreplay and what happened at Lexa's apartment was just a one night stand; that Lexa showing up today while you were crying your heart out was just a coincidence. The parking lot, your car. That this is one of the universe's terrible jokes and you got played. 

_Friends._

"Sure. Friends." A deep breath. "Should we shake on it?" 

"Clarke." 

"Okay then." You force a smile. "Maybe I'll see you around, Lexa." 

You turn on your heels and you walk away. Whatever pain and desolation you felt before coming in the park have transformed into something boiling inside pushing the tears to fall from your eyes again just like that. It's acid to a wound you thought have healed a long time ago. You shouldn't be crying, it's stupid you tell yourself. Or is it? 

You heard Lexa call you one more time as the distance between you and her unrolls which now feels like lightyears and oceans away combined. Maybe you were wrong, maybe this isn't one of those few things. 

* * *

"Clarke!" Nyko exclaims on the other line.

"Hey, Nyko."

"Please tell me you're calling to accept."

"I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of how Clarke felt? Let me know.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Quiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think that when you have a connection with someone, it never really goes away."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took longer to write this because I kept putting it down. But here it is.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it :)

A trickle of tangerine illuminates the crack of your curtains but the room is dark and other than the puff of your own breath and the warmth the body a foot away from you is generating, it's cold. You were jostled from dreaming by a ringing sound not so far away from your bedroom. You had to blink few more times before cognition kicks in, the haze of multiple orgasms makes it a trek to swing out of bed and move your legs to walk and find the source of the sound. 

Switching the lamps on, you find your phone haphazardly lying beside a discarded shirt. The bright screen assaults your eyes as you inspect the reason why it is blowing off in such an ungodly hour. Your call log shows it's from Lincoln along with a text message which you find rather urgent considering Lincoln's calm demeanor. 

**Lincoln [04:39]:** _Call me as soon as you can._

It's unlike him to send a message like this if it does not require immediate attention. You furrow your brows and clicks on Lincoln's number to dial. He picks up at the first ring. 

"Linc?" 

"Hey, I'm sorry to disturb you in this hour. But, it's important." You hear Lincoln exhales audibly. 

A pinch of panic is starting to settle in your stomach. "What is it?" 

"Can you come over to the station?" 

"Like right now?" 

"Yeah. It's better to discuss it in person." 

You inhale deeply and breathes out. "Alright, I'll be right there." 

You stay seated for a minute wondering why you're being summoned to a police station at five in the morning. You scratch your eyes and blinks the remaining sleep away. You pick up the articles of clothing on the floor which are mostly Clarke's. You walked back to the bedroom stealthily not to wake the other girl, she's still deeply asleep a mess of blonde on her face and limbs tangled in the sheets. A smile instantly tugs at the corners of your mouth. 

A desire to slip back in bed and tangle your own limbs with Clarke's spars with the obligation to get dressed and head for the station. The stillness of the morning makes Clarke's breathing audible to your ears fueling your desire more and an urge to run a thumb on her cheeks. You stand closer by the bed at Clarke's side like a creep but you just can't help but admire the view and the fact that you're able to in such close proximity makes your heartbeat go a little turbo and _alive._

Surrendering to the ache, you planted your lips on Clarke's temple as softly as you can and let it linger for few more seconds longer than any temple kisses should be. Clarke's hair smells of vanilla and something citrusy, a scent of summer and succor; you close your eyes memorizing the smell. You wish you could stay just a bit longer. 

Clarke stirs when you finally pull away but doesn't wake up. You took some clothes and dress in the living room to avoid any noise that might wake the blonde. It bothers you that you're leaving Clarke alone in your apartment, you contemplate on whether you should just text or call her later but it doesn't sit right with you. You find yourself writing a note instead and carefully folding it and placing atop Clarke's clothes. Before leaving, you take another glance of the sleeping figure and hopes she doesn't think of your night as anything but breathtaking. 

\--- 

You arrive at the police station fifteen minutes later with Lincoln waiting for you outside. He offers a small smile and a quick hug before ushering you inside to his office. You settle yourself on a swivel chair at Lincoln's insistence and lets your hand rest on your lap waiting for your friend to disclose the reason why he asked for you here. 

Lincoln pulls a drawer and produces an envelope with a large red tag that reads "EVIDENCE". A wave of anxiety washes over you as Lincoln pushes the envelope to your side and instructs for you to open it. Slowly, you pull a thick piece of paper that reveals to be a printed photo – of _you_ and _Costia._ Your stomach drops at the sight, your hand at the small of Costia's back as you open the bar door for her. 

"Carl Emerson." Lincoln breaks the silence. "Ring any bell?" 

You shake your head and Lincoln continues, "Emerson was arrested two nights ago. He's the suspect for the attempted murder of Governor Jaha. His house was raided and we found _that_ in one of his drawers." 

"Why the hell does he have this?" 

Lincoln swallows hard and leans by the window pushing his palms on the ledge. 

"It wasn't an accident what happened two years ago. We found weeks of photos of you and Costia. Lex, he was trying to kill you." 

Horror covers your whole body like a bucket of cold water has been poured on your head. 

"I don't understand, but why?" 

"His wife and daughter died in the stampede from three years ago, the city launching of drones. He's blaming you and Jaha." Lincoln supplies. 

It was a city event. The launch of the advanced drone you sold to the government for the city's surveillance system. You made a brief appearance as Tris informed you that it's the governor's request. You weren't there when the accident happened since you left right away for a business trip to Europe. Your company wasn't held accountable for any of it being the reason was a false terrorist attack. 

Lincoln further explains that since the attempt on the governor's life, there had been an ongoing investigation. Unlike your car accident, the governor's case was put under a microscope for scrutiny sweeping every possible angle and the leads traced back to a man named Carl Emerson which then reveals another crime that everyone thought was an accident. 

You bury your face to your hands as you struggle for air and control not to break down with all of the information being revealed all at once. The pain of losing someone forever came clawing its way to your scars reopening the wounds that had festered for a long time just as you're finally finding a way out of it. 

"What's gonna happen now?" 

"Investigation will continue for both cases. I'll be on top of it. But, there's more." Lincoln sighs. "There's another photo in there." 

He comes closer to the desk and pulls another sheet. Your eyes widen in alarm as they drop to a very familiar face. _Clarke._

It's from the restaurant a few weeks ago when you offered Clarke a ride home. The photo shows you and Clarke climbing to your car. Your pulse is raising and your chest is hammering that you weren't able to hear the next words Lincoln say. He had to firmly grip your shoulder with a gentle shake to gain back your attention. 

"It seems that he didn't stop. And this means you still have to be careful, we don't know yet if he's working alone." 

You nod, inhaling sharply grappling with the little amount of strength left to will your legs to stand. Lincoln assures you that he will keep you posted of the investigation. He advised you to take extra care and get some rest but with the weight sitting in your chest you doubt that rest is possible. Lincoln walks you to your car and encases you in his huge arms before bidding you goodbye. 

* * *

This time, the tears won't fall. You want it so bad to just flood but it won't. It's heavy and you feel so powerless about everything. You want to go back to Clarke but you're too confused and you don't want to drag her into the chaos that is your life right now. So, you drive to your house. 

The blue door creaks open as you unlock it. Every surface of this house reminds you of Costia, sometimes you can still smell her scent in the air. Her clothes still occupy a place in your closet and you still can't find the courage to get rid of them. Somehow, you were still holding on. 

In the last two years, Anya had been drilling it to your head that what happened was never your fault, that she wouldn't have let you go let alone drive if she wasn't sure you weren't drunk. Sometimes you would believe her on the days you were kinder to yourself. But it's clear now, if it wasn't for you there wouldn't have been danger in the first place. 

Your mind reels back to the night Costia died, you still remember how her scream filled your hearing when another vehicle T-boned your car that sent it flipping in the cold night air. Your guilt has never been more palpable than now, the weight of it settling in your bones like iron dragging you to agony. 

You spent the day mulling over the things you must have missed as a sign of danger coming but no matter how much you dig there's nothing you could think of. You've never felt like you should look over your shoulder, you've always done things the right way so there was never a reason for you to have bodyguards on payroll except for a driver; you barely even need Ryder other than for errands. 

You had a peaceful life with your father and Costia. Losing them was your chaos, it wreaked havoc in your whole existence and caused the walls you built like skyscrapers. Since Costia, you've never let anyone in, everything was casual and a one-time thing. No one, until a girl with electric blue eyes takes your mundane life by a storm of mischief and exuberance. 

Clarke had texted you that she already left your apartment and you don't know how you'll respond without committing too much. And the dread you felt at the station seeing Clarke in the photo still makes your hands tremble. Clarke is _not_ safe with you. 

At some point in the day, Tris had called checking in. You instructed her to deal with things back at the office and told her that you're on indefinite leave. 

The next days were spent holed in your study making calls to your lawyers and Lincoln, to everyone but Clarke. You know it's going to look like you're ghosting her but if that's what it's going to take to keep her away from danger, so be it. Your attraction for her could put her at risk, it's not something you will take lightly. You couldn't save Costia but you still can protect Clarke even if it means you have to stay away. 

* * *

On Wednesday night, Anya saunters to your doorway without preamble carrying a plastic bag that appears to be a takeout. You poke your head out of your study with the turn of door locks after four urgent knocks. She pauses in the doorway shaking the plastic, you frown. 

"What are you doing here?" You mumble. 

"Lincoln told me." The expression on her face is soft unlike the scowl she's always wearing. "I'm sorry, Lex." 

"Yeah." 

"Fuck." Anya sighs breathily. 

"Yeah." 

"Indra is on it." Anya made a habit of calling her mother by first name which you ignore as she opens her mouth to speak again, "I'll be the lead on the case." 

Your eyes darted from your phone screen to Anya instantly. She hasn't been practicing as a lawyer since she lost a case several months ago sending an innocent man to prison. It took a toll on Anya, she felt like she wasn't good enough and decided to go on hiatus for a while. 

"Are you sure? I mean, you don't have to. I have lawyers." 

"I know that but I won't just sit here and do nothing. Someone tried to kill you, Lex and it costed Costia's life. I will destroy him." Anya says calmly but through gritted teeth. 

"It was my fault, An." 

"We've been through this conversation, Lexa. How many times do I need to tell you? Emerson's crime doesn't change that fact. It was not your fault. It's Emerson's." 

"But if it wasn't for me, she'd still be alive." 

Anya closes her eyes and pinches them together with her free hand. "It was not your fault, Lex. Costia would never blame you for it. You have to forgive yourself." 

Your tears finally fall streaking on your phone and on your palms as you conceal your face in your hands. There's a shuffling of feet and the next thing you know there's an arm wrapped around you. It's like the day after the accident all over again, Anya tightly clasping your hand waiting for you to regain your consciousness. She was the one who told you and the one who held you in your grief and all of your ways to self-destruction after. 

Anya waited for the shuddering to die down whispering 'it's okay' as you quietly sob in her arms before she let go and announced she'll be at the kitchen. You followed her a few minutes later. 

"I thought you're preparing a gourmet meal." You quip trying to lighten the mood. 

"Don't be ungrateful." 

"Nah, takeout is better." You grin and so does Anya. 

"I talked to Raven," Anya starts. "Clarke is wondering where you are." 

"Did you tell Raven anything?" 

"No." 

"I feel terrible for ghosting her." You start picking on your food like the words are hiding between the sauce and vegetables. "But, she's not safe with me." 

"You don't know that." 

"But I do. I can't risk it, An. I just can't." 

"Okay, but tell her. She deserves that. And I won't be able to dodge Raven's questions for long." 

You smile at the thought of Raven being protective of Clarke. "I will." 

* * *

You met with Lincoln to discuss about the investigation's progress, he insisted to meet somewhere else saying he needs to breathe something that doesn't smell of leather jacket and steel. You took the liberty of stopping by a coffee shop and ordering something for the both of you. 

Lincoln was already there when you arrived, wrapped in his own thick coat. For a burly man, Lincoln gets cold too easily. It suddenly reminds you of a particular person. 

Through sips and bites, Lincoln breaks down the information he can disclose. Emerson is in custody and the case against him is solid considering a lot of evidence was recovered. There was no fingerprint in the vehicle he used but Lincoln was able to trace it back to his car dealer. He says Anya is up everyone's ass with the case. 

"I told her she didn't have to." You share with Lincoln in a small smile. 

"I already had a feeling she won't sit this one down." 

"Yeah. I'm lucky I have both of you in my corner." 

Lincoln smiles and squeezes your forearm. "Of course." 

You lingered for a while after Lincoln left. You're bundled in coat and scarf so the frosty breeze didn't bother you at all. It's been a while since you're out in a park and you missed the tranquility it provides on days like this. 

As you rise from your seat and began walking back to your car, you see a glimpse of blonde in one of the benches. You approach like there's a magnetic pull towing you closer, within about fifteen feet you have verified the identity of the person. It's really _her._ It's Clarke with her hands covering her face. You can't tell if she's shivering or trembling because there's a movement on her shoulders. _Is she crying?_

You had planned to finally call Clarke and ask her on a dinner to explain things but seeing her now so close you can't fight the need to close the gap until you're standing in front of her. Clarke is crying. 

It's tugging to every fiber of your being but a twisting sensation is concentrated in your chest akin to a double-edged knife puncturing its way to your soul. You're fighting the urge to envelope Clarke in your arms and kiss the quivering of her lips to warmth but all you could do is offer a piece of fabric and wish it's enough to soothe her pain in this moment. 

The surprise in her eyes is too discernible for you to not notice and you feel that she has questions she's trying to hold back. You're not sure if you should tell her everything, you don't know if this is the right time because there's too much pain in her eyes and you don't want to be one of the reasons why their usual sparkle is missing. 

But you have to tell her something now. You waited for her breathing to stabilize, waited for a sign to speak until she's holding out a hand for you with expectant eyes. Taking her hand might lead to holding it, you want to _god_ you badly want to but you know you shouldn't but Clarke is looking at you with big blue eyes and a hint of smile on her face, finally a smile since you arrived. So, fuck it. 

Recalling the first time your fingers folded against Clarke's, it was wintry and piercing like electrocution while standing on wet surface. It jolted you awake from a slumber; a hibernation you pushed yourself into since Costia. 

You want to keep it this way, holding Clarke's hand as you walk in an empty park keeping each other toasty in the middle of the cold. But you can't. Clarke's safety lies in your hands, the longer she's with you the more precarious things are for her. You don't want Clarke to be out of your life so you offer her a hand in friendship carrying a pound of hope in your heart that when all of this is over you can be more. 

"You mean just friends?" 

_No._

"Yes, Clarke." 

"Can I ask why?" 

_Because I need you to be safe._

"I-" You're struggling for words to come out but Clarke cuts you off almost immediately. 

"It's okay, you don't have to explain anything to me. It was just sex and nothing more." 

It's frustrating to not be able to explain things to her when you badly want her to understand. And it stings that Clarke thinks of the night you spent together has nothing more to it for you. Because it was _everything_ and you didn't think you'd be able to experience something like that again. 

"Clarke-" You falter. 

Clarke waits for you to expound on the why, she waits for you to say anything more but you're staring at your feet and there's nothing coming out of your mouth. 

Clarke accepts and she's walking away. 

"Clarke." 

You call out a little louder but Clarke keeps walking away from you and every step she takes, the numbing cold soaks in your skin making it hard to breathe and impossible to push back the pooling tears behind your eyes that you have been trying to repress as you held Clarke's hand in yours thinking it might be the last time you will ever get to do that. 

You wish you didn't have to ask what you just had. It's not what you want, but it's what you have to do for Clarke to be okay even when you know that she's feeling far from that right now. 

* * *

"Hi, Cos." 

You set the bouquet of red tulips before sitting cross-legged on the damp grass. There are little rays of sunlight peeking from the clouds making the dew from the trees twinkle. 

An obsession for flowers is something you and Costia shared though she loved the tulips best while you love anything she loved. When she asked you which flower appeals to you more, you say you don't discriminate against flowering plants and that they all deserve your appreciation equally. Costia dramatically shook her head and laughed. You loved the sound of her laughter and how the corners of her eyes crinkle doing just that. You wish you could hear it one more time. 

Her anniversary isn't in a few days but you decided to visit earlier, it's something you've always done whenever you wanted to feel closer to her. 

You spent half the morning sitting contently on the grass in front of Costia's granite headstone, telling her stories as if she's there with you. You tell her about your favorite memories together, describing them as you try to recall each one. 

Today, you just need to feel her more and even though you're not sure if she would hear you at all, you tell her about things you've never told anyone. Today, you tell her about Clarke. 

You tell her how you met and the few facts you know about the blonde; that she's a friend of Raven's and like Costia she also has a bit of cold intolerance. You tell her Clarke picks on her food when she's trying to avert someone's eyes, that she's quite adorable when flustered. You tell her Clarke might not be more due to the present circumstances. 

And then, you ask Costia; if she would forgive you, if it's okay if you decide to move on. You wish you can get an answer. 

"I could never stop loving you," You say it like a promise. "I hope my love was something you never had a reason to doubt and I hope I was able to show you exactly how I felt." 

You gently run a hand on Costia's name inhaling deeply as you combat with the tears not to fall. 

"I'll be back." You say as you rise to your feet. 

You feel a tad lighter being able to unload all the emotions and thoughts you've been keeping to yourself. You weren't able to get a shuteye last night as Clarke's sad expression haunted you. It's messing with your head. 

You're still driving when your phone dinged with a message. You weren't able to open it until you're in your office. There's a pile of papers on your table, it's going to be a very long day. 

The message is from Raven asking if you're coming in today and that she needs to talk to you. You have a feeling of what it's about still, you typed a reply. After some time, Tris appears in your doorway. 

"Ms. Woods, Ms. Reyes is here to see you." 

"Send her in." 

Raven strolls in briskly and you think she's about to punch you as she makes a beeline from the door to your desk but you're caught off-guard when she circles her arms around your shoulder blades and squeezes gently before letting go. 

"Anya told me. Sorry about it, boss." 

"Oh." You mumble, still shocked by Raven's display of affection. 

You lead Raven to the couch sensing the conversation about to unfold is not about engineering concerns at all. She hesitates for a moment but you give her a reassuring nod to speak, 

"Have you seen Clarke?" 

"Sort of." 

"Sort of?" Raven quirks her eyebrows. 

"I saw her the other day. It wasn't planned, I was meeting with a friend and I saw her in the park." 

"And?" 

"I asked her if we could be...friends." 

Raven blinks rapidly. "You what?" 

Silence follows from your end; you're staring at your hands just like you were staring at your feet when Clarke was waiting for you to say more. 

"I mean, is that what you really want?" 

"It's what I have to do." 

"Clarke is leaving." Raven blurts out.

Your head snaps back up and you look at Raven. "Leaving?" 

"So, you don't know." Raven sighs. "Yeah well, she took the residency in Africa. She told me last night and now I just confirmed why." 

You nod in acquiescence. You wonder if you're a factor in Clarke's decision and that if you're the reason why she's going away to work half across the world. 

Raven stands and walks to the door. "You're coming to my birthday, right?" 

"Wouldn't miss it." 

\--- 

Raven's party is already in full swing when you arrived. You recognize some of your employees from the engineering department as they give you a curt nod. You try to find either Raven or Anya but they're nowhere to be seen. You wander around the house looking for a drink, you proceeded for the kitchen. You poured yourself a glass of wine and walked through the small crowd with eyes still out for either of the pair. 

You know the odds are high that Clarke is here and you have prepared yourself for two things that might happen: it's either she ignores you which you'd understand or the other way around and you won't be able to resist. 

The lake house is huge and you're a little bit lost. You wander through halls and bedrooms looking for a quieter place to settle in. You're not really in the mood to party but drove all the way here anyway for Raven and Anya insisted you need to unwind a little, after all the case against Emerson is by far going well. 

You made your way upstairs and found a balcony overlooking the lake. You've never liked lakes, it's too calm and eerie that's why the pair's penchant for a lake house weirds you out. The balcony however is really nice, the house is mostly built of wood and glass with warm lighting and the furniture isn't half bad. 

"Can you try not to brood while you're in my girlfriend's party?" Anya jabs a finger on your side appearing from behind you. 

"Ow," You glare. "It's too loud downstairs and I couldn't find either of you so I went here." 

Anya rolls her eyes. "Because it's a party. Look, we invited you here to have fun. I know things aren't completely stable yet but you're gonna be fine. Come on, Raven's downstairs." 

You follow Anya back to the party and before you both merge with the crowd, she added, "Clarke's here by the way." 

You only nod and even though you're fully aware she could be here, your stomach is suddenly in knots at Anya's confirmation. Raven is sporting a toothy grin when she spots you at Anya's side. You see Clarke getting dragged from Raven's side by a petite woman with jet black hair to the dart board. 

"I'm glad you made it." Raven gives you a quick hug. 

"Me, too. Nice party. I'm starting to think you two have a kink for lakes." 

Anya and Raven exchanged a look you can't place. 

Raven smiles. "Funny, Clarke said the same thing." 

"Had to reserve it three months prior." Anya says proudly. 

You watch Clarke from the corner of your eyes, neither of you made any move to approach each other. She's occupied talking to her friends or playing some silly game while you mostly stayed with Raven and Anya talking about random things. 

As the night grows deeper, people are getting more drunk and rowdy. At some point, Anya and Raven left you to see the other guests out. Anya informed you that they reserved a bedroom for you upstairs near the balcony you were just lounging at earlier. You went back to the kitchen to get another drink before you retire upstairs but you found Clarke seated on a stool by the kitchen island eating what looks to be a slice of Raven's cake. It's too late to retreat so you mustered the courage and went for the cooler. 

You can feel Clarke's eyes on your back and you feel the heat prickling on your arms. You slowly take a bottle and pivots for the door. 

"What, not even a hello?" Clarke says. You're can't tell if she's genuinely joking but she sure is drunk. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb your midnight snack." 

"Technically, it's already breakfast since it's what past two I think." 

"I'll leave you to it, then." You take a step but Clarke speaks again and you freeze. 

"I thought you said we're friends?" 

"We are." 

"Why were you avoiding me all night?" Clarke probes. 

"So were you." 

"So, you admit it?" 

You don't know where this conversation is going and Clarke is clearly inebriated and possibly picking an argument for a reason you can't quite figure out yet. You turn on your heels and walks back to the island and loiters by the refrigerator not too close to Clarke. 

"Where is this conversation headed, Clarke?" 

"It's a yes or no, Lexa." 

"Yes." You relent. 

"Don't worry I'll be flying out in a few days. This is the last time you'll probably see me." Clarke smiles. 

She's smiling but her eyes are betraying her and you're fighting the pull to hold her hand right now. You tighten your grip on the bottle's neck. 

"I didn't mean it like that, Clarke." You inhale deeply. "It's complicated." 

"Is it though? I think I'm very capable of deciding for myself what's safe and what's not." 

"Raven told you?" 

"Anya did." Clarke plays with her fork like she's mincing the cake with it. "You could've told me." 

"I'm sorry. But it still doesn't change the fact that you're not safe around me." 

"I'll decide for myself." 

"Clarke," You sigh in exasperation. 

Clarke slides from her seat and puts the plate in the sink. For someone who's drunk, she has very good manners. But she's walking closer to you and your breath is starting to hitch and your clutching the bottle too tight it might just break. Clarke stops when she's only a foot away from you. 

"What are you so afraid of Lexa?" 

"Clarke," 

"Tell me to leave now and I'll do it." 

Clarke moves closer breaching your personal space and you're standing like a statue. All you could hear now is the pounding under your rib cage and Clarke's shallow breathing. She's standing too close and you can smell the beer she drank all night mixed with the same citrusy scent you smelled on her that early morning. It's too much. 

"What is it gonna be, Lexa?" Clarke whispers in your ear, her lips grazing your jaw. 

That's all it took for the last ounce of your self-control to go down the drain. " _Goddamnit_ , Clarke." 

You grab Clarke by her neck cupping the base of her skull with both of your hands while she found purchase on the collar of your button-down. She backs you on the refrigerator with your ass bumping on the metal. The kiss is hot and seeking, you slant your mouths and opening wider to give Clarke's tongue more access. 

The air in the kitchen becomes stale and humid and you're panting in each other's mouth as you briefly come up for air. Clarke's hands travel south pulling you closer through your belt loops. You tread a thigh between Clarke's and she shamelessly grinds down on it sending shivers to your spine and arousal spiking. 

You didn't realize you had dropped the bottle of wine on the floor causing it to break and spill all over. You pull away. 

"What?" Clarke asks. 

"I broke the bottle" 

Clarke smirks. "Leave it." 

She pulls you out of the kitchen and leads you upstairs. She opens a door at the end of the hall and hauls you inside locking it behind as she pushes you towards the bed. Clarke wastes no time and pulls her shirt over her head leaving her only in a blue lacy bra and her skinny jeans, it's certainly a sight for sore eyes. Clarke straddles your lap and makes a quick work of the buttons on your shirt and carelessly discards it off of your shoulders. 

Her movements are rushed like you're going to disappear if she slows down. She kisses you hard and pressing and releases your bottom lip with a pop. 

"Clarke," You cup her face to look into her eyes. "Are you sure about this?" 

"Do I look like I'm not?" 

"Well, for starters you're really drunk. I don't want you to think I took advantage of that." 

Clarke laughs. "I'm sure. Now, shut up and get to fucking." 

You close the gap with a searing kiss, gliding tongue and wanting hands. Clarke doesn't pull away while she unbuckles your belt and remove them followed by working on your pants. You mirror her movements, undressing Clarke as she undresses you. 

Clarke is gentle even in hurried motions. Unlike the usual frost on her fingers, this time it's blistering on your skin and you're craving it. You want her hands to be all over you all at once. Clarke hovers on top of you as she nips on your jawline and slowly drags her tongue at the column of your neck. She sucks on your collarbones, drawing patterns with her tongue hot and wet. 

Bras unclasp and come off between kisses. You raise your hips to help Clarke take off your pants together with your underwear. She swings out of bed and pulls her own off. Clarke crawls back with her mouth on your legs, dropping kisses and sucking every patch of skin her lips touch. Your back is arching at the sensation and the throbbing need for friction pools between your legs. 

She skips your apex teasingly and continues with the sucking on your hipbones kissing her way back on your stomach to the side of your breasts. Clarke is damn well taking her time. You pull her up and kisses her softly on the mouth. 

"Are you deliberately delaying things?" 

"Oh, are we on schedule?" Clarke smirks. 

"No." 

She chews on your lip and licks her own while looking in your eyes. Clarke runs her fingers on your sides in an up and down motion. Her tongue found its way on your chest dragging slowly on your sternum. Your hands are on her head massaging in encouragement. Clarke kneads on your breast while swirling a tongue on the other. Your hips roll seeking friction. Finally, Clarke's hand makes a gliding pass to your folds but the lack of force and fleeting contact is making matters worse. 

"Clarke..." 

"Look who's in a hurry now. I'm still annoyed that you decided for me." 

"Are you seriously holding a grudge that I'm worried about your safety?" 

"Yes. Because we could've been doing _this_ all those days." Clarke's voice is too husked and her eyes are pitch black. 

Losing your patience, you roll Clarke on her back and pinning her hands above her head. She yelps in surprise. 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit of a control freak?" Clarke provokes with a mischievous grin. 

"Why are you still talking?" 

Before Clarke could respond, you press your lips against hers in a bruising kiss. You descend to her neck nipping and sucking altogether with both hands kneading and palming Clarke's breast. As she raises her hips you meet it with yours grinding with fervor. Clarke moans between the presses of your mouth and clutch of your hands. Your dominant hand travels southward finding a wet slick and you let a smirk tug at your lips because Clarke _is_ soaking. 

You swirl a tongue on Clarke's pebbled nipple that has her spine arching and hands clutching the sheets. Your fingers tease on Clarke's opening and Clarke's hands are threaded in your hair and gently pushing down. 

"Lexa..." 

You climb up kissing and licking until you reached Clarke's mouth. "What do you want, Clarke?" 

Clarke groans and inhales sharply. "I want _you."_

"You want me where?" Clearly, the alcohol has settled in your blood making you a little bold and something about Clarke unleashes something in you and you let it take over, you let yourself loose. 

"I want you inside, _now._ " 

You deepen the kiss licking inside Clarke's mouth and finally entering with two fingers and pulling out momentarily only to add another one. Clarke lets out a gasp as you thrust and pump. Your thumb makes a circling motion on the bundle of nerves while Clarke chases the friction as you feel her orgasm builds up, her walls sucking your fingers in. 

Your mouth took residence on Clarke's breasts continuously sucking and lapping. Clarke comes tipping her head back on the mattress and eyes slamming shut. It's beautiful how she shudders and writhes under you, her kisses getting sloppy as you chase the little waves of her orgasm until she's panting and her hand flying to her face. Clarke is smiling. 

You plopped on her side catching your own breath mirroring Clarke's grin. You both laugh. She adjusts her position and lies on her side propping an elbow on the mattress. You know she's observing you with those ocean eyes and you're hesitant to look and a little bit afraid of what you will see. Because Clarke's eyes have always shown what's inside her heart like a literal window to her soul and in the span of time that you've known her, she's never afraid of letting you in. But you are. You know that if you look and go in, there's no turning back. 

Satisfied with the replenished oxygen in your lungs, you mount yourself back onto Clarke's thighs and pausing while Clarke's fingers are splayed on your stomach. Clarke initiates with a subtle rocking of hips the blue of her irises thins as the black grows wide and her lips parted. 

Your mouths reunite in a clash and clatter of teeth. Clarke's nails dig on your back and rakes on your spine until she slips a hand between your bodies and you're caught off-guard with the swiftness and bites down on Clarke's shoulder hard. Clarke winces but smirks. The rhythm of your bodies dances together with fingers pushing in and out and curling, breaths hot against skin and sweat trickling from temples. Orgasm hits you with a tsunami of pleasure and pent up yearning, eyes rolling behind lids and back curving. Clarke follows in little convulsions and seeing her come for the second time tonight electrifies your own orgasm. 

You slump on top of Clarke wheezing with heart beating too fast and too hard. Clarke loops her arms around you rubbing circles on your back tenderly like she has been doing this for a long time and you feel something blooms in your chest. Time is suspended like this with Clarke breathing in shallow paces against your body, scents blending and heartbeats rising into a crescendo. You want to stop the time.

\--- 

A dull throb in your temples makes you rise out of bed and look for coffee downstairs. Clarke is still sleeping when you sneaked out of her room, softly kissing her cheek before quietly leaving. Anya and Raven are already up narrowing their eyes like they're gauging something and giving you a once-over. 

You innocently pad past the pair to take a mug and proceeded for the coffeemaker. 

Raven clears her throat but it's Anya who speaks, "I thought you already left last night because your room was empty." 

"You checked my room?" You quirk an eyebrow. 

"Well, I was just gonna say good night to my best friend." 

Raven snorts. "Where's Clarke?" 

Saved by the bell, Clarke saunters to the kitchen sporting the same bed hair and crumpled shirt. Mischief plays in Raven's eyes while Anya allows a little smirk. 

"Morning, Clarke." Raven says cheerfully. 

"Volume, Rae." 

"Funny, I was gonna say the same last night but didn't." 

You choke on your coffee making you spew it on the sink. Clarke glares at Raven as she rushes instantly to your side patting your back. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah." You croak. 

"We have to head out in an hour." Anya says before leaving with Raven. 

\--- 

Akin to an unspoken agreement, Anya and Raven leaves Clarke to ride with you back to the city. For a moment, Clarke hesitated so you gave her a reassuring nod before climbing to your car. The first few minutes were quiet and uncomfortable as if it's your first time in an enclosed space together, like last night never happened. 

You're wearing your sunglasses therefore concealing your eyes as you study Clarke's movement from the corner of your eyes. She's suspiciously too engrossed with her phone tapping and sliding too fast. You need to talk about what happened since it's going to change the situation and you need to have the conversation now. 

"Clarke." 

"Lexa." Clarke responds like she was expecting you to speak. 

"We need to talk." 

"My decision stands." 

"Which is?" 

"I like you, Lexa Woods. In case my actions last night didn't clear that up." 

You had to clear your throat before choking on a nonexistent lump at Clarke's dauntless admittance. She doesn't smirk or make a sardonic comment of your stupefied reaction which makes it worse for you to formulate a proper reply. 

"It's not safe for you to be around me." 

"If I say I don't care?" 

"Clarke, I can't-" You inhale sharply and lets out a shuddering breath. Having Clarke back in your passenger seat reminds you of the photo Lincoln showed a week ago. 

Clarke sighs. "Go to a date with me." 

"I think that's against everything I'm trying to tell you about safety." 

"We'll do it indoors. My house." 

"Clarke," 

"Yes or no?" 

It's a struggle of will power, but you find yourself becoming more attracted to Clarke with her hardheadedness. Maybe you have to consult with Anya and Lincoln first about the safety risk. You make a decision. 

"You're killing me here, Clarke. Fuck, fine. But not in your house. I'll make the arrangements first." 

"But it's my turn to sweep you off of your feet." Clarke complains. 

"I have to be sure it's safe. Please, Clarke?" 

"Fine." 

Right after you dropped Clarke off to her house, you made a call to Lincoln and asked for his professional take on the matter. The hunt for Emerson's accomplices is still going but so far there is no trace that he was working with other people. This significantly lessened your anxiety however, Lincoln still advised to be vigilant. He sounded amused with your inquiry and said that there is no need to cancel a date as long as you're careful. 

The conversation with Anya didn't go so well on the other hand. You were cornered with her insufferable teasing and a side comment of how gay you are for Clarke. You chastised her that she's taking safety risk too lightly but she went on and on about how it's perfectly fine to be on a date. She suggested that you should do it in a public place or have it in your apartment where there is reliable security. 

You called Clarke that night giving her the pros and cons like you're laying out a battle plan. To your surprise, Clarke did not object when you suggested your apartment instead but in one condition she was so adamant about: She will do the cooking. 

Somehow, you're grateful for that because there are a lot of things you're good at but never cooking. Your anxiety and instinct to be very thorough had you setting up a meeting with your apartment building's security manager. On the day of the said date, you asked Ryder to pick Clarke up since you got a little bit held up on an emergency conference. You called Clarke prior and told her Ryder will let her in to your place. 

\--- 

You arrived to your apartment an hour and a half after Clarke informed you she had successfully broke in to your apartment with your driver's help. The text caused the first smile on your face today after grueling hours of meetings and endless paper work. 

Clarke is too absorbed in the kitchen to notice the turning of door locks. Her back is turned on you like the second time you met her but this time her hair is in a messy bun, she's wearing your apron atop her mini dress. You approached and stopped to lean by the dining table before clearing your throat. It startles Clarke. 

"Jesus Christ." Clarke exclaims holding a spatula. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." You smile. "You're weirdly comfortable in my kitchen." 

"Is that a bad thing?" 

"No." 

It's endearing but you keep it to yourself and continues to gawk at Clarke moving in your kitchen with such ease and comfort. Something stirs in your stomach like you're nervous but the good kind and it squeezes to your chest causing a dull pinching sensation on your fingertips. 

Clarke finishes with preparing dinner with satisfaction painted all over her face. You attempted to assist in setting the table but Clarke warded you off and commanded that you sit tight and wait as she's nearly done. The stirring in your stomach strengthens. 

Clarke is a devastatingly good cook. You wonder why she's a doctor and not a chef instead. The flavor plays in your mouth as you savor each bite and the wine compliments the dish really well. You keep nodding and humming that you failed to notice that Clarke had stopped eating and her attention is fixed solely on you. 

"What? Do I have something in my face?" 

"Yeah, too pretty." Clarke says without severing eye contact. 

"Having fun?" 

"You have no idea." 

Your quote unquote indoor date with Clarke carried on with the exchange of stories from childhood and past relationships. Clarke tells you about the guy when you first met. Clarke was in an on and off relationship with Finn since she was still in med school. Clarke shares that it got so toxic and led to a final breakup before she left for Africa over a year ago. 

You want to keep Clarke talking, other than you genuinely enjoy listening to her you're hesitating to open up about Costia although Clarke already know the basic facts from Anya and Raven. In addition to that, you want to keep the mood light and easy and your past might just spoil the night for the both of you. 

But Clarke has been nothing but honest with you and you don't want to leave her exposed and vulnerable with her past revealed and open. 

"Costia, she loved poetry very much." A breathy exhale. 

"Lexa, it's okay if you're not ready to talk about her. You don't have to." Clarke reaches for your hand. 

"I know. I want to." 

Beginning with another deep breath and Clarke's soothing squeeze on your palm you start telling her about Costia; how you met, about the things she loved doing, how you're both terrible in the kitchen so a lot of take out boxes were involved. You tell Clarke Costia was an amazing journalist and it scared you half the time of how unwavering she was for her passion of holding the line for press freedom. 

Clarke attentively listens, asking questions here and there without probing when your answer gets one-worded. The conversation sailed with ease and continued as you both cleared the table and did the dishes with you washing and Clarke drying. It's pretty domestic for a second date but you both don't give it much heed being too enthralled in each other's responses. 

You eventually moved on to the couch, both nursing a glass of wine. Your world narrows to Clarke alone, you become acutely aware of Clarke's mannerisms; her head tips back when laughing and her eyes water when overjoyed, she makes so much hand gestures when narrating an intense encounter from the past and she never breaks eye contact as she listens when it's your turn to tell a story. 

It's getting late and it slipped you're mind that Clarke does not live with you and you're going to have to drive her home but you're too buzzed with so much wine. You got carried away with engaging stories and good company. 

"Clarke?" 

"Hmm?" 

"I'm gonna be totally honest with you," You mutter and Clarke knits her brows. "I don't think I can drive you home, too much wine." 

But Clarke only chuckles. "That's fine, I'll order a car." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Totally. And I wasn't gonna let you anyway." 

"I'm sorry." You smile sheepishly. 

"Don't worry about it." 

You tidy up the coffee table taking the glasses to the sink while Clarke grabbed her things and ordered a ride. Clarke insisted that you don't have to go with her all the way down the building but being equally stubborn, you didn't budge. You wait for the car in front of the building feeling a bit anxious being outside this late not for you but for Clarke. 

Clarke noticed you're fidgeting with your hands and took one of yours in both of hers like she knows what's troubling you. 

"Hey, it's okay. We're okay." 

"What's your driver's ETA?" 

"Two minutes." 

"Okay." You continue to fiddle with your phone in your free hand. 

At last, you spot a car approaching and Clarke confirms it's her ride. Both of you fidget. Before the car could park, you pull Clarke in a kiss holding her face with one hand and the other clutching her waist. You keep it chaste and soft changing angle once. 

"Thank you for cooking me dinner. I had a lovely time." You say. 

"Me, too." 

"Text me when you get home?" 

Clarke nods and gets in the car waving at you before she drove away. You watch the car until it disappeared. A stupid grin is plastered on your face as you ride the elevator back up to your apartment. 

* * *

Anya called to inform you that Emerson pleaded guilty during his arraignment for both cases against him for a plea deal. Anya was not happy about it saying Emerson took the coward way out therefore robbing her off the chance to incinerate the suspect in trial. But for you it doesn't really matter as long as he gets punished for his crimes, you just want this to be over so you could go back to not feeling on edge all the time. The hearing is in few days to inform the judge about the agreement. Few more days and this will all be over. 

Lincoln confirmed that the investigation showed Emerson worked all by himself and that threat is neutralized. But the hearing isn't over yet and there's still a pang of fear that coils within and you're constantly worried for the safety of everyone around you. 

Clarke asked you out again three days after your last date. The girl is relentless and endearingly bull-headed that you can't resist. Before you can object, she explains that her mother is inviting you for a dinner including some of Clarke's closest friends, casual and easy. You agreed to go. 

You're a little nervous with the setup, parents usually love you but meeting Clarke's mother again when you're sleeping with her daughter hits different, you don't want to give a bad impression or fuck up in any way. You asked Clarke what you could bring and said you don't have to. But it's a Woods sacred rule to never come empty handed. You ended up bringing wine and something stronger for Clarke's soon-to-be step-father. You're highly-strung making your spine too rigid for the supposed to be casual and easy situation Clarke promised you. 

But who are you kidding, meeting the parents and Clarke's inner circle is too overwhelming even for your level of confidence. 

You met Marcus first as he was in the lawn grilling way too many barbecue. He's welcoming and nice. One down. In the living room lounged some of her friends, Clarke introduced them as Monty, Harper, Nate, Jasper, Echo and the girl you saw at Raven's party with Clarke during the dart games – Octavia. 

Clarke says you're halfway done through introductions. 

Abby was in the kitchen still managing the dinner. You're a bit relieved to see one familiar face, Raven. She greets you in a crushing hug and introduced you to another friend of theirs named Bellamy who's currently helping Abby with the sauce. Finally, Clarke reintroduced you to her mother. Your anxiety ebbed away when Abby pulled you to a quick hug in all smiles. 

"You okay?" Clarke asks when you're alone on the porch. 

"Yeah." You offer a smile. 

"Sorry my friends are really something." 

"It's okay. I loved meeting each of them especially your mom." You quip. 

"But you already met my mom." 

"Yeah well, it was under a different circumstance." 

"Were you nervous?" Clarke teases. 

"No." An immediate reply, rather too immediate. 

"You definitely were." 

Clarke laughs, her eyes are luminous under the gold light above you. The huskiness of her voice echoes through the night as she tells you the back story of how she became friends with each of the people you just met. You learned that Bellamy is Octavia's older brother and that he's dating Echo. Monty is also an engineer like Raven and they go way back in college. All except Raven and Octavia are college friends and all of them turned life-long comrades. 

You admire the way Clarke describes them with such individuality and affection in her voice. It's no surprise she's surrounded with people who clearly adores her, you watched their eyes lit up whenever Clarke is near or is telling them something. This time, the stirring sensation comes back burning up to your chest. 

After way too many rounds of beer pong and uno cards and with everyone keeps mentioning Clarke's name and the word 'miss' in one sentence, it dawned on you what the occasion is. 

"Clarke?" 

"Yeah?" 

"This is a send-off party, isn't it." It's not a question but an acknowledgement. 

Clarke inhales sharply. "Yes." 

"When do you leave?" 

"Tomorrow night." 

You nod in acquiescence. Silence stretched out along with the cold exacerbating the blues you're starting to feel. It's fight or flight. 

"I should get going." 

"Lexa." Clarke pleads. 

"Everyone already left and you need to rest for your flight tomorrow."

"Lexa." Clarke says again. "Please don't leave like this." 

_Please don't leave, Clarke._

You want to say it but if Clarke wants to go, it won't really matter. 

"Maybe, I can take you to the airport?" You offer. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"Okay." 

You thanked Abby and Marcus for the dinner before taking off. There's a weight in your chest pulling your heart down to your stomach. You withhold any physical contact with Clarke except for a hand squeeze before turning on your heels. It's self-preservation for an impending hurt that Clarke will leave you with. You'll save it for tomorrow. 

\--- 

You parked your car in the driveway. Your phone is vibrating incessantly in your pocket but you're tired and honestly in low spirits to be checking messages right now so you leave it alone for later. You do need to check in on Anya about the hearing today. 

You entered the house and made a beeline for the kitchen to get a glass of water since you forgot to drink some back at Clarke's with her friends keep offering you beer you didn't have the heart to refuse. They were all so sweet and warm. 

Your shoes make a squeaking sound on the floor, the only thing you can hear in the darkness and quiet. A sudden thought to sell the house crossed your mind since you've been spending more time in your loft than here. You switch the lamps on by the staircase to make a clearer view of your way. As your vision readjusts a figure sitting on your couch is revealed. You dropped the glass and it shattered on the marble floor. 

Your chest is hammering and fear seeps into your bones. You're too shocked to make any move. Carl Emerson _is_ in your house. 

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" You try not to tremble. 

"To finish what I failed to do two years ago." 

The lack of lighting conceals his face making it hard to decipher his expression but his voice is calm and he speaks with such nonchalance that it makes your skin crawl. He abruptly stands and walks closer to you. Anger rises in your throat at his audacity to step foot in your house and tamper the memories of your father and Costia. 

"What do you want? You should be rotting in prison now." You snarl. 

"You're the one who should be rotting under the ground. I lost everything because of you!" 

"It was not my fault." 

"Of course it was! Your drone's purpose was warn people against terrorist attack and it failed when it didn't detect that it was a false alarm." 

"The event was a launching, the drones weren't activated yet." 

You don't know why you're explaining this to this sick man but you're aware he is extremely dangerous and it might just be the way to stall him or negotiate or beg for your life. Two years ago, you begged for the opposite you wished it was you and not Costia because you died with her that day. You thought that death was better than the agony and pain you felt. 

"You killed my wife and daughter. You should've died in that car with your girlfriend." 

"Don't you fucking dare mention her. You murdered her in cold blood. Between the two of us you're the murderer." 

Emerson maniacally laughs. "If I'm going down, I will drag you to hell first." 

His next movements were fast and the next thing you know you're being held at gunpoint. If this is the end, you regret that you haven't thanked Anya for everything she'd done for you. You regret you didn't kiss or hug Clarke before leaving, you regret not telling her that you like her back and it might be more than that. 

Your life flashes before your eyes as a gunshot ring in your ears. A burning sensation hits your midsection as you drop to the floor clutching the wound and a gushing sound terrifies you, blood is oozing from your abdomen. Your vision is starting to blur and it's getting harder to breath by the second. You hear footsteps fading, Emerson is gone. 

It takes every strength you have left to make a slight movement. You struggle to take your phone out of your pocket. Blood is coming out of your mouth and it might not be long before you pass out. You maintain pressure on your abdomen as you unlock your phone with your other hand. It fucking _hurts._

You press two as hard as you can. Liquid and blood bubbling out of your mouth as you try to speak and choke at the same time. You feel drowsy and tired and you can't hold on for much longer. 

This can't be the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: She doesn't die.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. places we won't walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neon lights shine bold and bright  
> Buildings grow to dizzy heights  
> People come alive at night  
> In places we won't walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, work has been eating all my time.
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe :)
> 
> Enjoy!

_Hi, it's Lexa. I can't be on the phone right now, please leave a message and I'll call you back._

Lexa's electronic voice reverberates in your ear as you call her for the fifth time today. You don't care how needy that looks because she hasn't answered any of your texts since last night and it's past two in the afternoon. You hoped you could spend the day with her or rather, the remaining four hours before your flight. 

You dial again. 

"Come on Lexa, pick up," You mumble to yourself. 

_Hi, it's Lexa. I can't be on the phone right now, please leave a message and I'll call you back._

"Damn it."

Another string of texts flew, you're agitated pacing back and forth in your room and the floor might just fall down from your heavy stomping. The thought of driving to Lexa's apartment crosses your mind. Admittedly, it's a little insane but it's also the only choice you have if Lexa still doesn't answer in the next thirty minutes. 

You wait it out.

Before padding downstairs, you arranged everything you need – luggage, hand-carry, passport, wallet and literally checking them three times over. Nyko called earlier to check in and reminded everyone not to be late for the flight, the doctor is a godsent for his team, organizing everything and asking little to no compliance from everybody so punctuality is a small ask. 

Abby is preparing something in the kitchen, perhaps her dinner tonight on duty. Marcus came over to drive you to the airport on Abby's request. She had asked this morning if Lexa is taking you or any of your best friends but you only responded with a certain 'I don't know' so hence, Marcus. 

Twenty-five minutes have passed, still nothing from Lexa. 

You started pacing again in front of the television chewing on your thumb and breathing anxiously. Your troubled state didn't go unnoticed by your mother as she hands you a paper bag. 

"Here honey, for the flight." 

"Thanks, mom." You take the bag from her and lowered yourself on the couch. 

"What's wrong?" Abby asks. 

"I need to see Lexa." 

Abby sighs but sits on the adjacent arm chair. "If it's that important to you Clarke, you still have time to do it." 

"Yeah?" 

"We'll meet you at the airport later." Abby smiles. 

Grateful for your mother's wisdom, you kiss her on the cheek and headed back upstairs to get your purse and booked a ride. 

On your way to Lexa's apartment, you contemplate if coming to Lexa's place unannounced is a product of rational thinking. But you haven't been really that rational since you met the girl. Raven is probably right; Lexa has rendered you scatterbrained. The thought of Raven seemed to have summoned her, the ID caller displays that your best friend is calling. 

"Hey Rae." 

"Clarke." 

"No crying, okay?" 

"Clarke, it's Lexa." 

"Is she with you? I'm actually on my way to her apartment. Can I talk to her please?" You ramble. 

"Clarke, she's in the hospital. She was shot." 

Your world stops. 

Your surroundings became a blur as you process three words. _She was shot._ The traffic noise is muffled, an increasingly loud drum from your chest overwhelms your hearing merged with Lexa's voice and your last encounter with her last night plays on loop. Her sad smile, the weight of her hand in yours, her back to you as she walked away. 

"Clarke, are you still there?" Raven's voice breaks through your speaker. 

"Which hospital?" 

"Mt. Weather." 

"I'll be right there." 

"Be careful, okay?" 

Unable to respond, you ended the call and instructed the driver to head for Mt. Weather instead. Your anxiety from earlier have tripled and your hands are shaking as you fidget with the hem of your shirt, the drive is too slow and you keep telling the driver to _please_ speed up. 

You run faster than you ever have in your life and there's barely air in your lungs as you put one leg forward in front of another. You immediately spot Raven with an arm circled on a crouched down Anya, her head between her legs and her hands concealing her face. 

"What the hell happened?" You say panting. 

Raven reaches out for your hand. "It's Emerson. He escaped." 

"Son of a..." You trail off, a hand flying to your own face. "Where is she?" 

"ICU." 

"Is she-" You swallow hard. "-okay?" 

"She will be," Anya speaks. "She's strong, she'll be fine." Anya stands and walks away. 

"She'll be okay, Clarke." 

Anya doesn't return until Raven called her to say that visitors are now allowed. You let the pair go first and you wait for your turn to see Lexa and hold her hand. They took their time inside and even if you don't hold it against them, you're becoming impatient and apprehensive as you rub your hands on the frayed material of your pants. 

Anya's face is flushed when they emerged from the room, her eyes bloodshot. It worsens your own fear and unease. After putting on the visitor's gown, cap and mask, you were guided into Lexa's room. Your heart plummets seeing Lexa connected to tubes and machines but a pinch of relief that she's still here, breathing. You slowly lower yourself on the chair beside her bed and instantly reaches for her hand. Her face is pale and there's a crease on her forehead that you want to kiss away. 

"Hey," You say, willing yourself not to cry. "You know, getting shot is a terrible way to stop me from leaving." 

You let out a quivering sigh. "I need you to be okay, Lexa. Please be okay." 

A tear rolls off of your cheek, your lips tremor from holding it back. It's the culmination of the panic and waiting you have been enduring for the last shaky hours. Lexa _is_ alive, you remind yourself when the tears won't stop streaming dampening your mask. 

You stay planted on Lexa's side for another hour before stepping out to tell Anya and Raven to go home for now to get some rest. Anya refused but eventually relents when Raven almost fell because her leg is starting to hurt. You promised to update them if anything changes. 

You approached the nurse on duty introducing yourself as a doctor and requesting politely if you could see Lexa's chart. Lexa's doctor as it turns out is your mother's friend, Jackson so when the nurse called for permission he didn't think twice to say yes. You even talked to him on the phone to discuss Lexa's condition. 

Lexa sustained a gunshot wound in her midsection; Jackson says she's fortunate it missed her heart but it did graze an organ. She also hit her head badly from her fall causing a concussion. As a fellow physician, Jackson didn't sugarcoat it for you when he said that there's a high chance that Lexa's brain would swell. If that happens, they're going to have to put her into a medically induced coma. 

You called Nyko first informing him that you will not make it to your flight. He protested but backtracked when you explained your situation, you asked if he could stretch your time off a little bit more. You then called your mother to tell her you're at her hospital and that Lexa isn't okay. Abby assured you she will see you before heading for her station. 

It's not the waiting that's hard but the wondering. Your hand took residence in Lexa's, her hand has always been warmer against yours. Your thumb makes circling patterns on the back of a delicate hand, you dip your head down to kiss it. 

You dozed off unwillingly sometime between midnight and dawn with an arm propped on the side of the bed with a hand still on Lexa's. You woke up to the sound of Lexa's labored breathing. You immediately pushed the emergency button to call for help. 

"Lexa?" 

Jackson asked you to step out of the room as he assesses Lexa. Fear envelopes your whole body as you wait to be let back in to Lexa's side and know what is happening. You dial Anya's number. 

"Clarke, is something wrong?" Anya asks nervously. 

"Her breathing is irregular. It could be a symptom of brain swelling. You need to come." 

"Okay, I'll be right there." 

Anya came running to the ICU few minutes later. You asked Jackson to wait for Anya before telling you both what changed in Lexa's condition even though you already know what he is going to say. Still, you stood by Anya's side as Jackson explains. 

"Her brain is swelling from the concussion she sustained from the fall. We need to put her in coma to relieve the pressure." 

"Fuck," Anya mutters. "For how long?" 

"For as long it takes." 

\--- 

Three days. 

You thought it would only take that much time but it's been six days since Lexa was put in a coma. It's starting to frighten you in an alarming level. Anya's frown has been more noticeable each time you switched as Lexa's caregiver. Her sentences have also been reduced to 'Hey Clarke' and 'Any change?'. 

White tiles and white walls, disposable gowns and log in sheets; a routine you have familiarized for the last six days of coming in the hospital. Sometimes Raven would be the one to switch with you when Anya is in court and if she's not drowning in the office. Raven told you that without Lexa to put everyone in their places, it's a little chaotic. 

Today, Anya invited you for a coffee before you go home to change. You're surprised by the request but also didn't refuse sensing Anya might be harboring something she needs to say to you. There's a coffee shop across the street and you settled at one of the booths. 

"She was able to call me before she lost consciousness," Anya begins, holding her coffee cup with both hands like she's drawing strength from it to hoist the words out of her throat. "But it went to voice mail. I was still probably in a call with Lincoln when she called. Lincoln was telling me that Emerson escaped and he can't get a hold of Lexa. So, when I listened to her voicemail, I knew. It was like the floor swayed from under me. 'Emerson', it was the only thing I heard and she was struggling to say that one word and then silence." 

"She was with me before it happened," You recall. 

"Yeah, Raven told me." 

"I wish I just didn't let her leave." 

"Don't do that," Anya's eyes are fixated on yours. "No one could've possibly known." 

"Still," 

"The irony is that she was so adamant of protecting others, of protecting _you._ " 

You remember the night you were in Lexa's kitchen cooking dinner for her because you can't go out. You share it with Anya and to your surprise she knows about it saying Lexa asked for her opinion and Lincoln's on the matter. Anya tells you that Lexa was quite tensed about it, constantly worrying whether it'd be safe for you to be around her. 

"Lexa must have already talked about Costia at some point?" Anya asks as if gauging for her next revelation. 

"She did." 

"The day Costia died was also the day Lexa's happiness just...didn't exist anymore after. It was buried with Costia." 

You saw it in Lexa's eyes when she talked about Costia, her sighs and faint shake of hands as she told you stories. She must have loved her so much and you know this isn't the right time for your insecurities to surface but Anya narrating a story of how Lexa lost herself in her grief makes you jealous of that kind of love and also wonder if you'd ever be given the chance to make Lexa feel the same and if possible, more. 

"She must have loved her very much," You vocalize. 

"She did. Since then I've never seen her smile reached her eyes. Until she met you." 

This surprises you as it is flattering. In the span of time that you've known Anya, she's not one to give sugary words and certainly doesn't beat around the bush to shoot her point. 

Anya sighs, "She's just beginning to find her way back and thanks to you I don't have to haul her ass out of godforsaken bars in the middle of nowhere anymore." 

"Has she always been that way?" 

"Since Costia died, yes. Maybe when she was just you know, drowning in it." 

You nod in acquiescence. You've had your fair share in using alcohol as a numbing agent for anything you're refusing to feel, for things that hurt too much, for things that you want to go away. 

"I've known Lexa our whole life. She's hard to please," Anya dramatically rolls her eyes. "But she's loyal as hell." 

"Yeah, I think so too." 

"Thank you, Clarke." Anya sips on her coffee. 

"What for?" 

"For coming to Lexa's life in the right moment." 

\--- 

Tenth day. 

You're at the farmer's market picking some things up including some white carnations to replace the wilted flowers in Lexa's room. Raven volunteered to be in the hospital so you could run for a change of clothes and a nap in an actual bed but you have other plans in mind thinking that today might be the day and knowing how blossoms make Lexa giddy, you didn't want her to wake up in the company of dying flowers. 

Flower shopping hopped from one stall to another until you're in a cab of a whole stall's worth. The hospital guard, Murphy greeted you as soon as your feet touched the white tiles of the entrance. 

"Good morning, Dr. C. Griffin," Murphy says gleefully. 

"Good morning, Murphy." You smile. 

In the nurse station, Niylah and Zoe are doing some charts with eyebrows burrowed in concentration. You make a quick stop to drop off two fresh cups of coffee. 

"Good morning, Dr. Lover," Niylah remarks eyeing the bundle of carnation you're struggling to carry. 

"Morning," 

Although you and Lexa never really talked about your status, you never felt the need to correct anyone who blatantly assumed you're the patient's girlfriend but it didn't _not_ make you blush every time either. If only Lexa could just wake up already so you can ask her. Raven's eyes widen in amusement of your recent purchase, smirking devilishly probably thinking of a teasing retort. 

"Don't," 

"What?" Raven chuckles. 

"I know what you're thinking. But, today might just be the day you know." 

"You really forewent comfortable sleeping to go buy a flower shop?" 

"Like I said, today might be the day." 

"Oh, Clarke. Here I thought I was the gayer one." 

The swelling in Lexa's brain have gone down and yesterday her attending physicians have decided to rouse her out of the medically induced coma and keep her in the ICU for further observations. You have been up all night last night fighting the sleep in case Lexa finally wakes up. 

Raven left few hours later so you're left alone with Lexa again. Tomorrow, there will be a new sun and you hope it'll be the one to rouse Lexa from her long sleep if not tonight. Her wound is healing well, sometimes you change the dressing yourself which earned a complaint from Niylah, not a bad one but rather teasing which you only responded with a sheepish smile and a wave of a hand. 

"Ms. Woods is a lucky girl," Niylah had said. 

You hope that's true but not in a way that the nurse meant. If luck is what kept her from dying you pray that it hasn't ran out and if you could give your own reservoir, you'd give it willingly and Lexa doesn't even have to ask not that she can right now. You're not a pious person, you barely go to church services but you do pray on situations of despair and fear. 

The cumulus clouds are lined up on the horizon like cotton dipped in honey and orange in a background of pink. The last glow of the day falls perfectly on Lexa's high cheekbones and if her irises are visible now, you're sure they'd be the kind of green between shamrock and emerald. 

"Lex, please wake up," You whispered as you kiss Lexa's forehead. 

She didn't even stir or move a finger, not a little change in her breathing. Spending every waking moment in the last two weeks with Lexa, you've unconsciously memorized the rhythm of how her chest rises and falls; how many seconds it takes for the next respiration, the number of beeps the monitor makes and how many more times you wish for Lexa to come back to you. 

\--- 

Day eleven. 

"I'm sorry, Clarke. They can only allow fourteen days max, beyond that they'll cut you off the program." 

"Okay. Thanks, Nyko." 

"Will I see you soon?" 

"I'll let you know." 

\--- 

The sticky notes have been accumulating on Lexa's wall. Some of her colleagues have visited including her assistant, Tris and Anya's mother, Indra. Most of the notes says 'get well soon boss', flowers have also been arriving like it is prom night also wishing Lexa a fast recovery. 

You're running out of time. You know that if you don't fly out in two days you will be cut off the residency program and all other programs in the country have already started. It might take you another year to get into one. This puts you in a knotty position, you couldn't leave then and you're sure leaving Lexa now would be comparable to ripping your own heart out from under your rib cage. You can't, not like this. 

Lexa's condition is promisingly improving, no other complications from the surgery and she has been stable but she should also be awake by now. Abby came to check on her this morning and didn't find any abnormality in her heart or lungs. She came with a neuro specialist to check Lexa's brain activity altogether and informed you that everything seems to be fine. She's been breathing on her own since yesterday, though still a little pale. Today, she's being transferred to a private room which you're skeptical about because why is she still not awake. However, you do agree that maybe she just needs some sunshine and Abby assured you everything she would need will be in her room. 

Anya asked if you could stay longer today since she wants to be in the courtroom when the judge reads Emerson's verdict. Raven has been mostly in the office moderating whatever she can while Lexa isn't around to keep everybody working in full force and also to assure her colleagues that their boss will be coming back soon. 

You're still watching Lexa like a hawk, listening to every faint sound she makes, every flutter of her eyelids. It seems like she's just sleeping and you want to climb up the bed and lay beside her and rest your head on her chest.

You stand staring at Lexa, taking in everything you can in this moment and you realize how it always feels like it's the last time and it's running out so damn fast and you just need more, just a little more. 

"Please wake up, Lexa. I really need to tell you something," You say, akin to begging and almost like a prayer. 

After arranging and rearranging the flowers by Lexa's window with the purpose to take your mind off things instead of deliberating for a decision, you finally dozed off with a book in hand. Upon learning from Anya of Lexa's love for books and reading, you thought you could get a new hobby and started going to the nearest bookstore to pick out something Lexa might like to read or listen to so you started reading to her every day, enunciating every word like it's the key to Lexa's consciousness that seemed to have been locked away. 

A soft ruffling of fingers far too familiar to your sense of touch cuts your dream short. The light in the room have been dimmed so you can only see pitch black darkness from the window. Your arm hurts a little with the lack of circulation and the weight of your own head pressed on it for the whole time you were asleep, you lift your head as slow as you can and at the same time straightening your arm. 

You stretch your arms above your head then blinking the fog out of your eyes. Lexa is looking at you, you blink once more with a purposeful scratch to confirm you're not dreaming. Lexa really is awake and looking at you fondly with _those_ eyes. Oh, how you've missed those eyes. 

"Hi, Clarke." How you've also yearned for the click of your own name in Lexa's tongue. 

"Oh my god, you're awake." You attempted to stand to call for a nurse or Jackson but Lexa holds your arm. 

"I'm fine, Clarke. A nurse already checked on me an hour ago." Lexa smiles. 

"An hour ago? Why didn't they wake me?" 

"I said not to. You were sleeping so peacefully." 

You quirk an eyebrow. "So, you were watching me sleep?" 

"It's a perfect view to wake up to." The visible gleam in Lexa's eyes makes your heart stumble on something which caused for a smile to stretch under the low fluorescent light. 

You can't help but launch forward to press your lips on Lexa's catching the brunette off guard but you're glad to find a receptive mouth opening wider for the tip of your tongue to brush Lexa's bottom lip. Her free hand finding purchase on your waist as both of yours gently cup Lexa's face. 

"I missed you," Coming up for air, you say. 

A smirk instantly tugs at the corners of Lexa's mouth at your admission, lashes fluttering and pupils slightly dilating. 

"How long have I been out?" 

"Thirteen days." 

"That long?" 

You nod. "Apparently, you're a heavy sleeper." 

Worry crosses Lexa's expression followed by a continuing wordless reaction like she's trying to remember everything that happened that caused her to be stuck in a hospital bed for two long weeks. Her eyes glisten and tears pool at the corner of her eyes, it tears apart the relief you felt earlier. 

Terrified that Lexa must be in pain you ask immediately, "Hey, are you in pain? What's wrong?" 

Lexa shakes her head. "I just remembered what happened." 

"It's okay, you're safe now," You coo, kissing Lexa's forehead and running your palms on her arms up and down. 

"I thought I was-" Lexa swallows hard like there's a bolder in her throat impeding the words to come out, slow trickle of tears spills out unrestrained on her ashen cheeks. 

With the pad of your thumbs, you mop the tears dry. "Shhh, you're okay." 

A few reassuring kisses later, you helped Lexa up to a sitting position and eventually joined her on the bed with her head resting on your chest as you card your fingers through her hair; it's the opposite of what you've been dreaming and craving to do but it's not a bad alternative either. Gold and apricot varnish the sky, a new day rising and Lexa's warm breath on your skin is the only way you'd ever want to start this day with. 

Both of you fell asleep snuggled up in each other's arms and cheap cotton sheet. You're cautious not to fall in deep sleep and unconsciously tangle a limb over Lexa's or put on weight afraid that it might hurt the recovering patient. 

A gentle shake of shoulder jostled you awake. Niylah's face with an amused smile swims into view. You're alone in the bed, panic rises to your chest in the absence of the warm body you fell asleep with. 

"Where is Lexa?" 

"She's in the bathroom, changing. Here." Like it's routine, Niylah hands Lexa's chart to you. 

"Jackson already cleared her? She just literally woke up from coma." If Niylah doesn't know any better, your tone would suggest condescension and frankly rudeness but the nurse only shrugged. 

"I'm just following orders." 

You hand the chart back with a frown. Lexa emerges from the bathroom in jeans and a white shirt with the front hem tucked in, a smile plays on her lips noticing your once-over. 

"It's good to see you up and about and not in an ICU gown, Ms. Woods," Niylah appraises. 

"I take it you witnessed so much of the latter," Lexa responds and Niylah shrugged again. "In that case, thanks for taking care of me." 

"Between you and me, I didn't do so much as record your blood pressure, not even change your wound dressing," Covering her mouth from you, Niylah feigns whisper to Lexa, "Someone was so adamant about doing it herself." 

Lexa's eyes widen with glee as she locks eyes with you and Niylah took it as her cue to leave the room. Alone again, you tilt your head to the side assessing Lexa's expression and general condition searching for the slightest discomfort but the other girl is smiling as she inspects the wall covered with disarrayed sticky notes in assorted color. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" 

Without looking in your direction Lexa replies, "Yes, Clarke. My doctor already cleared me." 

Your lack of reply followed by an audible deep breath makes Lexa walks back to the edge of the bed to reach for your hand and the other tipping your chin to look at her in the eyes. 

"Take me home?" 

A nod and Lexa's lips press on top of your head like you’re the one who had been shot and slept endlessly. Lexa must have sensed the worry in your voice and it must be painted across your face as she repeats the words 'I'm okay' for you to hear echoing the same reassurance you offered her last night as tears dampened your shirt. 

You called Jackson before leaving the hospital in attempt to extinguish the sting of anxiety lurking in your stomach that maybe everyone's in a haste of discharging Lexa but he assured you she's good to go and is only required to come back for a follow up check-up. 

For a good thirty minutes, you're on the phone calling people up including your mother, Anya and Raven. Anya was also skeptical about Lexa's release which effectuated to another phone call to Jackson and Abby. Your own reactions show that you're not thinking like a physician but like a _girlfriend_ which Abby kept pointing out to justify that Lexa is okay. 

Like a developed habit, you're keenly aware to Lexa's every respiration and shift of facial expressions, constantly looking for any sign that might warrant a trip back to the hospital. 

Anya and Raven showed up at Lexa's apartment an hour later carrying brunch in boxes and plastic containers. The usual unease in Anya's face instantly melts seeing Lexa up on her feet to greet the pair on the door. You trail behind to give both a quick hug. 

Lexa beacons Anya to the kitchen and you only heard two words to understand the cause of the sudden serious expression in Lexa's face and Anya's glances to you: 'Carl Emerson'. 

While the other two discussed quietly on the other side of the loft, you and Raven prepared the meal on the coffee table, neatly placing napkins under the containers not to stain Lexa's furniture. 

"Have you told her yet?" Raven asks in a low voice. 

"I plan to. I mean-" You sigh. "You know I didn't even want to leave when she wasn't conscious yet and now it's even harder, Rae." 

"I know. But you only have today to have that conversation, Clarke." Raven eyes you sympathetically. 

Another breathy sigh, maybe too loud that Lexa craned her head to look in your general direction. 

"But as always, I'll support you whatever you decide." Raven appends. 

Your impending departure reignites every ounce of worry in your system and has you inattentively fidgeting on the couch's armrest. This goes unnoticed by Lexa that after Anya and Raven leaves, she approaches you by the sink as you put away the empty takeout boxes. 

"Clarke, is something wrong?" 

A genuine look of concern is etched on Lexa's face, a glimmer of green irises searching for electric blue. Like Raven had said earlier, you're going to need to have this conversation with Lexa, and it's something that you had hoped to do before everything spiraled into a night of terror and days spent with restless eyes and weary heart. 

Finishing the chore, you take Lexa's hand and pull her back to the couch to sit. Without severing the laced fingers, you begin, 

"Remember that I was leaving for Africa?" A nod. "I'm _still_ leaving for Africa, Lex." 

"Oh." 

The concerned look prior to the conversation of you leaving is replaced with despondency dimming the earlier glee in Lexa's eyes that are now fixated on the floor. You squeeze her hand to regain Lexa's attention, a language you've both came to learn when trying to express something that words can't. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be. You have to go back. It's what you want to do, help people." 

"I don't want to leave you." 

A sentence analogous to another only composed of three words but this hasn't registered to your wits yet resulting to a disclosure of a similar meaning instead of the other but also perhaps you're afraid to say it yet, worried that it might be too early now even when you thought it was too late when you were pacing impatiently on white tiles anxious and scared to your bones. 

Rather than reply with words, Lexa closes the gap between your bodies with an initially chaste kiss on the lips escalating to a searing and messy make out session on the couch. Lexa's hands are seeking, lifting your shirt to gain access on pale skin. Even with slanting mouths and gliding tongues, you're careful not to put too much pressure on Lexa considering she had a head injury and the gunshot wound hasn't completely healed. 

Maybe you're not the only one who is acutely aware of the other's actions no matter how small because Lexa is pulling away, "Clarke, you can touch me I'm okay." 

"I don't want to hurt you," On Lexa's part, the words could be interpreted as something else entirely in reference to your chat but Lexa's expression is understanding and tender when she replies, 

"You could never, Clarke. So, please?" 

Forest and ocean irises dissolve to pitch black with every reveal of milk and sun-kissed skin, for every lick and drag of tongue; limbs tangling and untangling only to reunite again with so much fervor, every thrust and pump eliciting guttural moan while backs arch and hips roll, name spilling forth attached to loud cries of 'fuck', 'please' and 'harder'. 

You're in awe of Lexa's stamina as if she hadn't been lying on a hospital bed for two weeks. Lust didn't keep concern away as you keep on checking in if every bend, press and push isn't too much and made Lexa promise that if she feels any pain or discomfort, you stop. 

You didn't stop. 

Your gestures and words of concern seem to have served as morphine to Lexa if she felt any pain at all which she didn't say or show as the whole afternoon was spent on thoroughly fucking each other on Lexa's couch and bed. By dusk, you're both sore of the good kind and stomachs grumbling but also in dire need of a nap. 

Nap became a full-on sleep as you haven't had a full dose of shut eye in the last thirteen days. You feel like you could move a truck with your bare hands when you woke up, lost sleep replenished with an added bonus of multiple orgasms. 

A puff of breath warms your nape, you make a purposeful roll of your behind to Lexa's front and smiles when a thigh slots between your legs. Lexa kisses your shoulder to announce that she's as awake as you are now then craning your head to plant a kiss on that perfect pout. 

"Hi," Lexa says. 

"Hi," 

You're about to face Lexa fully when she holds you to not move from your current position. She peppers you with kisses on your back, a hand cupping a breast and kneading making you to involuntary grind on Lexa's thigh to seek more contact as pleasure builds you up anew. Fingers find wet folds and throbbing bundle of nerves swollen and ready. Lexa glides back and forth on the wetness she discovered. 

"Lexa, please." 

"Not yet, okay?" 

Lexa's fingers skate up and down, thumb circling and pressing, teasing you as you ache for more. 

"Fuck." 

"I want to take care of you like you did for me all those days. So, let me okay?" 

The gentleness in Lexa's voice is scorching to your ears drawing more wetness from you that has Lexa moaning in appraisal as your arousal spills on her hand. 

"You're so wet, Clarke." 

"Please Lexa, fuck me." 

Satisfied with her foreplay, Lexa enters you swiftly with two fingers filling you full and gathering more wetness as she pulls in and out with kisses hot and wet on your skin. Her thumb continuously makes circling motions on your clit, grinding to your back as she fucks you with ardor and such desire that even after a lot of orgasms prior to this one, she can still pleasure you in ways you didn't imagine possible. 

You come hard and loud as Lexa presses on your clit, your toes curling and walls clenching tight on Lexa's fingers. You shudder and convulse under Lexa's touch extending it long as you both can, riding each one with full kisses on the mouth that sends you to edge with fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as they slam shut. 

Out of breath, you turn to face Lexa, a smirk graces you, the scent of orgasm is thick in the air blending with the smell of Lexa's unoccupied bedroom. You kiss the smirk away only to find a broad grin after. 

Endeared at the sight you ask, "What?" 

"I can't get enough of you," As if proving a point, Lexa kisses you on the mouth with a deliberate squeeze on your ass. "Can we do this all night?" 

"Sounds okay to me but we do need sustenance." 

"Food is overrated." 

You chuckle. "The morphine is still in your system, I see. You're high, Lex." 

"I might be but not because of a drug." 

If anything, the look in Lexa's eyes is not a temporary flash of pleasure but neither of you is deciphering this with the fog of hesitation wrapped around the delicate situation as the 'conversation' still hasn't been put to bed with a solid resolution as to what will happen when you fly out of the country to the other side of the world leaving _this_ bliss, leaving Lexa here. 

The knots in your stomach return causing an abrupt swing of legs out of bed, a full bladder a perfect excuse to not raise suspicion why you're in a hurry to get out of the room. 

Lexa followed you out in the living room a few hushed moments later while you're on the phone ordering food. She pads quietly across the room while you keep yourself busy tapping on nonexistent apps on your screen. 

"Clarke," 

"Hmm," 

"Come here," 

You obey and takes the spot on the couch next to Lexa. You're refusing to come down from the high from the earlier activities avoiding the lingering green-eyed gaze, side-stepping the precarious state of affairs between you and her. You've made your move and told Lexa and now it's her turn to exercise the right of reply but with words this time. 

"When I was shot," Lexa begins, her voice cuts through the deep of the night calm and collected unlike the trembling sound in the hospital not so long ago. 

"Lex," 

"Let me, I need to say it," You both sigh breathily. "I thought it was the end for me and all I felt was regret and I wished I said it back that I like you too, Clarke Griffin." 

You suspected, well of course you have with all the sex you've been having and the eyes can't really lie but the verbal confirmation from Lexa coerces the butterflies to flutter in your belly and your heart to backflip. 

You can't help but capture Lexa's lips with your own. "You know, this isn't helping the quandary at hand." 

"I know. I want you but I also want you to know that I won't be in your way if you want to go." 

"So, you're saying you won't ask me to stay?" 

"I would but-" 

"Buts aside," 

"Clarke, I know you'd have to wait for another year if you get cut off of the program." 

Lexa smiles and it cracks your chest, she's staring attentively into your eyes and you want to melt into her, lace your fingers at the back of her neck and fit your body with hers. 

"What about you?" You hesitate for a second and then, "What about _us_?" 

"I'll still be here when you come back and Facetime is a thing, Clarke." 

"Can we really do this?" 

"I want to. Don't you?" 

"Of course, I do." 

"It's settled, then." 

Lexa pulled you into an embrace you don't want to break free from. The rest of the night was spent in pizza and cuddles and two more rounds on the couch with the glow of muted television used as night light. 

_Resfeber_ quickly accumulates in your stomach as hours stretched and consumed, the Swedish term used to describe a mix of anticipation and anxiety before a journey begins can't even cover it though for you it's more of the latter and it's growing by the minute that you're almost positive your heart is physically breaking. 

No matter how much you want to delay the inevitable, it's going to happen one way or the other so when the morning comes that you have to part with Lexa to go home and prepare for your flight, you don't fight it anymore. Instead, you proposed to spend every second you have left on Lexa's side. 

"Do you wanna maybe come with me to get my stuff at home?" 

"I'd love to." 

Abby and Marcus are home and signaled for the both of you to come to the kitchen for breakfast. Abby envelopes Lexa in a hug expressing that she's happy to see the brunette doing well in her recovery. You and Lexa volunteered to load the dishwasher before heading upstairs in your room. 

Your luggage is neatly parked by the dresser, you don't really have much to prepare for aside from maybe conditioning yourself not to bawl in the airport later. 

Lexa wanders around your room, inspecting picture frames and the view from your window. 

"Ever sneaked someone in here?" Lexa quips. 

"Once or twice." 

You mirror Lexa's amused grin and beacons her to the bed. You hold Lexa in place while you're seated and she's standing as you lift her shirt up to her midsection. 

"Clarke, your mom is downstairs." 

You frown then catches up to Lexa's meaning, you can't tell if it's a joke or not though. 

"I'm just checking your wound, smart-ass." 

"That's terrible bedside manner, Dr. Griffin." 

You huff. "Funny, you weren't complaining on the bed last night." 

Lexa's ears pinked at you remark and retaliated by pinning your hands above your head with your back flat on the mattress. She doesn't let go of her hold as she kisses you on the mouth full and wanting. 

Playing with fire, you humor Lexa's tease by parting your lips and biting down and deliberately angling your legs wider so Lexa's body is resting in between. 

You make a mental note for future use not to provoke Lexa's arrogance in your parents' house because clothes are immediately being discarded, belts unbuckling and desperately muffling moans with kisses just not to make any sound that would incriminate both of you. 

"You have to be quiet, okay?" Lexa instructs and you nod, anticipation boiling and arousal spiking. 

Lexa is still mostly clothed as she descends trailing kisses on your stomach and sucking on hipbones hooking fingers on your underwear and painstakingly dragging it down as she continues to sink further below. A broad swipe of tongue to your wetness extracted a sound from you that there's no way Abby and Marcus will fail to hear. 

"Shhh," Lexa coos but smirks. 

Your valiant effort to contain your own moans and curses is dismantled by Lexa's skilled tongue and you're in desperate need of release. One more swirl and you're going to come on Lexa's mouth but the other girl has other plans as she kisses her way up leaving you on the verge of complaining but as soon as her lips are on yours, Lexa thrusts three fingers inside pushing and pulling in a rhythm that fuels your high up, up and you're there. 

Whatever sound you made next, Lexa made sure to subdue it with kisses and not pulling away until you're tapping out and in dire need of oxygen. 

"Fuck," You cover your eyes with a hand and laughs. 

"How's that for bedside manner?" 

"Shut up." 

You both laugh, giggling like teenagers in the safety of your bedroom as if successful of not getting caught from sneaking your girlfriend into your room while your parents are away. 

Except that your mother is downstairs with your soon-to-be stepfather probably trying their might to cover their ears as thin walls fail to cloak the evidence of your pleasure escaping from Lexa's mouth. 

A long shower later, you and Lexa pad downstairs with your luggage rolling on its wheels forward behind you. Abby shoots you a look, her eyes jumping from you to Lexa while Marcus averts eye contact altogether. 

You're never good with goodbyes so this is the part where you want to bolt for the door before the waterworks derail things and the unease that will sprout some awkward hugs later with wet cheeks isn't an appealing feeling to pack for a flight. So, you make it as brief as you can limiting to one goodbye hug and max of two. 

"Call me when you land, honey," Your mother says while holding back tears. 

"Be careful, Clarke," Marcus offers. 

A long exhale and a smile. "Thanks guys. We have to go." 

The trip to the airport is utterly silent while fingers are interlocked and your head sandwiched between Lexa's chin and shoulder, an arm wrapped around and hearts beating fast and forlorn. Ryder himself is quiet like he's not even there and only the shifting of gears and few blows of horns indicate his presence. 

Long hushed moments and hand squeezes are the language you've been communicating with Lexa for the past hour and it's probably better because if you dare to speak, tears might come out instead of a sentence. Your flight calls for boarding and the weight sitting in your chest grows tenfold, it's time to say goodbye. 

You stand in front of each other hands slightly swaying to ward off the palpable blues looming in the air. 

"Call me when you land?" 

"I will." 

"However good or shitty, tell me about your day, okay?" 

"I will." 

You don't know why you've never discussed this arrangement beforehand but maybe this kind of stuff spring in situation of heightened emotions and pooling tears behind eyeballs. 

"I'll wait for you." Lexa smiles and didn't try to blink away the glistening of her eyes. 

"Please." 

The PA system announces again and this is it, you pull Lexa into a crushing hug and kisses her with everything you're feeling inside; a guarantee of facetime and texts, of future written in every glide of lips and a promise of coming back home. 

Letting go of Lexa's hands is like cutting off oxygen from your lungs, tears finally run despite your effort to hold it back and mess up your make-up but who cares about smeared eyeliners when you're walking away from the sole reason of stupid grin on a morning-after, of short-circuiting brain and of somersaulting heart. 

Looking back over your shoulder is never a good idea but you do it anyway hoping Lexa is still standing there watching you until you disappear with the other passengers journeying to the different side of the earth carrying suitcases of clothes and feelings and pieces of home they can bring. 

Lexa stands there cemented, she sees you look back and she waves the smallest of waves wearing a doleful smile as she watches you go. You want to run back to her and stay because how are you going to survive for months and years without being able to touch Lexa, without hearing her laugh or her witty banters, without the vivid green to grace your morning. 

You will yourself with all the strength you have to turn around and continue walking. You want the time to fast forward so instead of going, you're coming back. But ultimately, you just want to be with Lexa, to be tangled with her on silk sheets in long nights and spend time learning what she wants to do on Friday nights and weekends. She's the one you want to come home to and share a drawer or a dresser with. 

She's the one you want because you _are_ in love with Lexa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will they survive ldr? 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :) I'm on tumblr @suitcasedstars if you want to chat :)


	9. retrouvaille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa and Clarke face the challenge of long-distance relationship with only a glowing rectangular screen and yearning hearts tethering them to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute. I hope you're all staying safe and sane.
> 
> Enjoy reading :)

"Clarke?" 

"Lex." 

"When will you be back?" 

"Lexa," Clarke sighs. 

"I kind of miss you." 

"Kind of?" 

"I miss you." 

\--- 

Two weeks without Clarke and you're...fine, you're completely okay. The first week was filled with ceaseless texting between board meetings and drooping eyelids, phone calls at night whenever both aren't too tired to stay on the line without dozing off. Decidedly, time zone is your foe. 

A recurring headache warranted a visit to the hospital but Jackson assured you or more accurately, Clarke, that there's nothing to worry about. 

You went back to your usual routine two days after getting discharged from the hospital which Clarke was strongly against with but relented as you promised to take it easy which of course was not possible because as soon as you got back complications and setbacks have been having a field day. 

"Which part of I don't want to be disturbed was not clear to you?" You snap at Titus, fuming at the audacity of the man to barge into your office bypassing Tris saying he has urgent matters to discuss with you. He's been in the company for as long as you can recall, in experience he has the seniority, yes, but more often than not, he seems to forget that you _are_ calling the shots. 

"I'm sorry, Lexa. But, this requires your immediate attention." 

"What is it?" 

Titus shows you the tablet he's clutching, the data is way off and it doesn't seem to be right. You were gone for two weeks, how did things get out of hand this bad? 

"How did this even happen?" 

"A number of our investors didn't think you'd be coming back." 

"And none of you took the initiative to handle this while I was gone?" Titus is tight-lipped so you continue, "you mean to tell that if I died then and there, the company was going to be buried with me?" 

You're angry now, aware that your voice is rising and gritty. You take a deep breath and close your eyes momentarily. 

"We are handling it." Titus offers. 

"I want everyone concerned to be in the conference room in ten minutes." 

Titus nods and exits the office suite with more urgency in his steps than when he came in. 

You're still catching up with tons of paperwork and meetings and out of town business trips that were rescheduled as you were bedridden for two weeks. One problem sorted over another as days come by, caffeine and at most five minutes of solitary in your office in intervals of infinitely lined up meetings as a temporary relief where you can breathe in and out without your insides wanting to combust. 

Your loft has been awfully quiet and unoccupied in the last month, Clarke's scent fades with time and the sweatshirt she wore before she left found a permanent place on the empty side of your bed. You play a mellow song on your speaker before settling on the couch waiting for Clarke to call. The call came in late but you're more than willing to wait even if it'll take all night. 

"Hi," It came out tired rather than excited. 

"Hey, sorry I'm late, had to finish up some charting. You alright?" 

"Yeah, just a long week. How about you?" 

"Same I guess." You hear a ragged exhale. 

"Clarke?" 

"Yeah?" 

You pause for a second pondering for the sentence in your head and biting your bottom lip before saying, 

"I wish you're here." 

Silence follows on the other side of the line that has you chewing aggressively on your lip hoping what you just said isn't too much for Clarke to hear at this moment. Another puff of breath before Clarke replies, 

"Me too, babe. Me too." 

The nickname sends tingles to your spine and heat creeps up to your neck. It stirs the impulse to drop everything and hop to your jet and fly to Africa to see Clarke. A juvenile act, your father would probably say together with an amused headshake, if only he could see you now losing your acuity over someone too far to touch. 

Being the person responsible for thousands of livelihoods, there is no shortage of distraction for your _lovesick_ brain as Anya accuses you of being, a term you didn't imagine even once is in your best friend's vocabulary. But patience must really be a virtue, one you're struggling with and has to stretch longer and wider now that the girl you're head over heels for is thousands of miles away. 

You don't say it but each time the screen goes black you're fighting the pull to call Clarke again. You're not going lie, long distance is difficult especially on nights that you're missing the blonde in your bed and you can't even call her as you please because of the time difference. 

You promised Clarke you want to do this but long distance profoundly sucks. 

On a less dejecting side, Clarke's absence somehow built a bridge for you to be close to her mother, one coffee across the street from Mt. Weather Hospital a checkup ago lead to another in an Asian cuisine restaurant in the city. One of your Sundays few weeks later was spent on picking up some plants for gardening together with Marcus. 

Today's arrangement is chaperoning Abby to find a wedding venue on Clarke's request which didn't need much convincing as the two of you are now well-acquainted. One phone call later, you and Abby are on your way to canvas a venue good for a hundred people. Clarke briefed you that Abby and Marcus decided to keep the wedding intimate but she didn't mention Abby was thinking of a secluded forest themed one. 

From the city's prettiest spots which included galleries and function halls that no matter how much sales talk and persuading was thrown, the cardiothoracic surgeon didn't seem impressed to say yes but polite enough to say no. It's her wedding after all, she gets to choose everything as she pleases. Consecutive headshakes lead you to scale up a road to some mountain top. 

"It's beautiful," Abby pronounces, awe is visible in her eyes and even though it's not the same color as Clarke's, the sparkle is similar. 

"It is," You mirror Abby's awestruck expression. 

Unlike the lessees in the heart of the city in matching blazers and slacks, the owner of the scenic scape is an old couple in cardigans and warm smiles. Of course, there was a full tour; an array of lodging options for guests as well as amenities like a relaxing spa, fishing pond, golf course, and even an onsite brewery, with rooms ranging from suites to cabins. 

It's dreamy and picturesque, you can't wait to disclose the full details to Clarke later, a scheduled Facetime of promised uninterrupted hour. At the end of the tour, a decision is painted across Abby's face which also signals the end of your day. 

Driving back to the city seemed easier than climbing up, the car was unexpectedly filled with striking conversations about business that you didn't anticipate Abby would be keenly aware of and delightful stories about Clarke's childhood were revealed. 

You expected nothing more from your day but a casual conversation with Clarke's mother but to your endless surprise, it expanded into something more than just small talks and tailing Abby as she picks out her wedding location. Abby asked what you thought, what would be nice, if you think Clarke would approve of this or that. Some questions felt like a trap though and maybe they were, maybe you'll never know. 

\--- 

"Are you in any pain?" 

"I'm fine, Clarke. I just got a bit dizzy after the meeting." 

"I'll ask Jackson to squeeze you in." 

"Clarke, that's not necessary." 

For the last fifteen minutes, Clarke has been interrogating you while you work on a new pile of folders that Tris delivered an hour ago. On the other side of the screen, Clarke seems to be in an empty laboratory with a background of microscopes atop tables and machines you don't recognize. 

You were ambushed by the unscheduled Facetime with little warning from Raven incriminating herself that she might or might not have mentioned to Clarke that you had to cancel your meeting with the engineering department yesterday because you were not feeling so well after dealing with a problem in a conference preceding Raven's division. 

A glare from a screen was ensued. But no amount of Clarke's chastising will ever annoy you and the blonde is exasperated with your display of stubbornness. 

"Okay, but if you feel anything, you'll call Anya or Jackson, please?" 

"What about I call you instead?" 

"Lexa," Clarke reprimands. 

You smile. "I will, don't worry." 

"I have to go. I might be off the grid for two days, we have to do this testing in a very rural area. Take care okay?" 

"Yeah, okay. You too." 

As the sun burns in the horizon and you rise to perform things every CEO is expected to and sometimes becoming overzealous and obsessive-compulsive over the littlest of details, somehow your mind still has the capacity to wander off and daydream about a lunch with Clarke somewhere in the city squeezed between hectic schedules and woozy hearts, hands glued as heels click on cobblestones and blonde locks sway with every step. 

Twilight shadows hit darker on the fiberglass casting melancholia on your over-fatigued bones. You stare longingly at the gorgeous view you could've been reveling together with a particular set of blue eyes as one fetches the other for a date night but instead, you're on another marathon of cross-referencing excel sheets and dinner from takeout boxes. 

A modern-day story of two women balancing a soaring career and relationship through a digital compromise to stay tethered to each other while miles of land and the Atlantic Ocean separates two ends of a love story that's still in its infancy. 

It's a shaky ground to start something with only text messages filling the cracks of the aching need to touch and voicemails to appease lingering worry when calls are left unanswered and too many hours pass before they're returned. 

Weeks went by and you see less and less of Clarke with three texts a day when you're lucky and one the next day when she's slumped with shifts chasing and studying cases. Exhaustion clung around Clarke's eyes the last time you saw her, the resident doctor shared that she barely had sleep in the last eternity running to and from, here and there. 

Although disappointed at the continuing absence of Clarke's name popping on your screen, you keep on sending her a text sometimes one too many, reminding to eat and nap when possible. The other weekend, you sent her a photo of you, Anya and Raven from your weekly brunch with the pair, a sad and heart emoji was only Clarke's reply. 

More gravelling sighs echo at the loft than goodnights, though you understand how cramped Clarke's schedule have become, you still find yourself downhearted. Clarke on the other hand never fails to apologize for every missed opportunity to talk, with Clarke six hours ahead, by the time she's out of her shift you're already sleeping. Of course, you've tried to set alarms but sometimes your body betrays you and Clarke is against the idea anyway. 

("Lexa, you need full hours of sleep. We'll find another way.") 

Really, you can't win the health care argument if you're dating a physician, not that there's so much dating in the calendar but that is beside the point. Another way was in fact found when Clarke's shift was switched even if you have to wake up an hour earlier than usual. The new timetable worked for a while, more talking, more of Clarke. It drastically improved your mood and as per Raven's account, Clarke's too, saying the blonde have become too chirpy in their weekly skype with Octavia. 

Long distance in a way has also forced you to resort to sexting which sometimes escalates to phone sex if you're home and Clarke is alone. As thrilling as it is, there's no denying that you wish it was Clarke's hand in place of yours, her voice real and hot on your ears rather than the one carried by a designated network frequency. 

The euphoria of it all however didn't last like you hoped, your perfected daily itinerary with Clarke ruptured when her 48-hour shifts started. Abby's wedding was moved so the hope of seeing Clarke soon vanished into thin air. It started going downhill from there. 

_It's Clarke, I'm probably on duty, doing my best to heal people at the moment so you know what to do._

Clarke hasn't called in the last fifty-seven hours; she did say she might lose her reception for a day but that was two days ago and she was supposed to call last night. Panic rises to your throat, you sent a few texts before heading to a conference. 

By the time you're home and you stayed late today at the office, there's still nothing from Clarke. You anxiously wait, nursing a glass of red wine to help with the swelling unease. You messaged Raven if she knows anything but she hasn't heard anything from Clarke either. 

Maybe she got stranded somewhere without service, you persuade yourself. You left Clarke another voicemail to call you as soon as she gets it. You try to distract yourself in mindlessly browsing through social media when a photo caught your attention. Clarke is tagged in a photo posted two hours ago. 

Frowning, you click on the photo for a closer look, it's a group photo. A guy has his arms around Clarke's shoulders like they're close or something, you've never seen him before though but the guy next to him is a face you immediately recognized. 

_Finn._

Something boils in your stomach. What is that excuse of a man doing in Africa with Clarke? It can't be a throwback photo considering the caption says 'Reunited, same old same old.'. Someone named Bellamy Blake posted the photo. 

A text from Clarke comes in few minutes later. 

**CLARKE [22:27]:** _I'm sorry I had no reception for days, it's chaotic here. Call you tomorrow?_

_Sure._

It's the only thing you managed to say, at least you know she's safe. But the coiling of your insides didn't go away even after your body is rested because your mind isn't. It's the first thought in your head when you rise out of bed, seething in your ribs, troubling the usual peace. 

The next day, anticipation builds as you patiently wait for your phone to ring but it also added fuel to the fire of disappointment when the awaited call didn't come. 

A day later. 

Two. 

Three. Still nothing. 

You must have sent a hundred messages and tons of voicemails to Clarke on the last seventy-two hours and received nothing in response. It's so unlike Clarke to go radio silent this long even if she's drowning with shifts. Worry is consuming you each passing second, you had to call Clarke's hospital. 

A doctor who introduced himself as Nyko received your call informing you that Clarke was sent to a medical mission on a countryside with little to no reception and got stuck there because of a sudden unforgiving rain. Nyko assures you Clarke is fine and she's with five more other people and will probably back tomorrow if the rain finally subsides. 

_So, Clarke is stranded somewhere and probably with her ex. Great._

Panic wrestles with jealousy in your gut at the thought of Clarke being in the same place with the guy who treated her badly the last time she was with him. 

The haze of afternoon was consumed in investors' meeting, reviewing designs and signing proposals. Having a million things and one to do took your mind off Clarke that you even forgot about it when you found Anya lounging in your office when you got back from another meeting. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Hello to you, too." Anya stands and walks over to the glass wall overlooking the vast city skyline, a twinkle plays in her usually serious brown eyes. "I realized it's been a while since I kicked your ass in the octagon." 

"You wish," 

"Lose the attitude Woods and walk the talk." 

You scoff but smiles that Anya mirrors. An hour later and you're drenched in sweat and hoarsely panting. Usually, Anya is more brutal with her strikes, but tonight she's oddly careful and the weight of her jabs and round kicks are not as forceful as they usually are. 

"Why lure me here if you're gonna go soft on me?" 

"As much as I want to hand your own arrogant ass to you, I also prefer you alive or have you forgotten you had a head injury?" Anya throws a towel at your face and set a water bottle between you and her. You chugged the cold liquid quenching your parched throat dried by a lengthy round in the ring. 

"I'm fine. What is this really about?" 

"I figured you could blow off that pent up anger and sexual frustration _here_." 

If you're not already flushed, you're sure your face is a shade of red with Anya's crass assumption and you can't give her that satisfaction so you play coy, 

"What are you talking about?" 

Anya rolls her eyes seeing right through you, you've always been such a terrible liar. "LDR is torture, or are you still in denial?" 

Wiping the dirt and sweat from your face and arms you answer, "It's not like I have much of a choice, An." 

"You could've asked her to stay." 

"I don't know. I think Africa has always been her plan and we did talk about it and the whole long-distance thing and agreed we can do it." In the back of your mind, you have that what if. What if you actually asked Clarke to stay? If you're being honest, the residency program was an easy fix with all the connections at your disposal, not that Clarke would likely accept but what if you had offered? 

"And how's that working for you?" 

"I saw a photo that she was tagged in and she's with her ex," You breathe deeply. "and I still haven't heard from her." 

Anya hangs back for a second, possibly processing or waiting for you to continue. Being the lawyer that she is, she's likely turning the gears inside her head for a logical response to the information you dropped. 

"Did you call her hospital?" 

"I did. Another doctor said she's stuck somewhere because of a rainstorm." 

Anya starts to gather her stuff from the locker then pivots to face you. "If you're being paranoid, I don't think that's worth it." 

"I can't help it. They have history." You argue. 

Anya suspires. "Right. And you were too busy napping when shit went down." 

"What do you mean?" Furrowing your eyebrows, you urge Anya to elaborate. 

"Who do you think stayed all day and night by your side when you were in coma?" 

"You...and Clarke?" 

"Yes," Slinging her gym bag to one shoulder, Anya finishes her thought that has you flabbergasted and the coiling loosens, liquified. "but mostly Clarke. She was there every day, just waiting for you to open your eyes, watching you like you're going to disappear if she blinks. So, just talk to her." 

Nodding in slow-motion, you comprehend Anya's observation and quickly thought of Clarke. You part with Anya in the parking lot, acknowledging dip of heads in place as goodbyes. While still on the drive home, you receive a text from Clarke saying she'll call in ten minutes, you step on the gas. 

Unlocking the door in a hurry, weary that any time now Clarke will call. Tossing your work bag on the dining table, you swiftly fish your phone out of your pocket when it rings except that it's not only a call but a Facetime, you press the screen. 

"Hey," Clarke greets. 

"Hi." 

"Sorry for being MIA," Clarke sounds shy and unsure, the coil tightens and your jaws grind. 

"I was worried, Clarke. I didn't hear from you for days." There's no bite in your words as you're holding back the frustration and the anxiety the photo caused but nonetheless pouting. 

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to, I was just preoccupied." 

"Does that include reacquainting with your ex?" 

"What?" 

"I saw a photo of you," You breathe, controlling the vexation you've been enduring since last night is harder than you expected. "What's his name – Finn? He was in the photo." 

"Oh, that was from the other night." 

"So, you were _with_ him?" 

"Yes." 

_What the hell does that mean?_ A long silence on both ends. 

"Okay? So, you're friends now?" 

Another pause on Clarke's end which makes matters worse for you and then someone yells Clarke's name followed by muffled clattering and multiple pairs of footfalls. 

"Shit, that's my Attending. Uh, can we talk again later?" Clarke says in haste. 

"Okay." 

Defeated, you toss your phone on the couch and hop in the shower to wash off the dirt from earlier and hopefully, the prolonged discontent digging onto your skin. You let the water soak you, let it drown your growing unease. Clarke never struck you as one to get back with a toxic ex, let alone cheat. Would she? 

The thought is careless and heavily impacted by the current lack of communication with Clarke and you truly hope you're wrong. 

Clarke called the next day, sleep-deprived and looking thinner as she did before she left six months ago. Your train of thoughts about the photo and Finn were replaced with concern as the sight of a frail Clarke is aggressively tugging on your heart, if there's a way you could be on her side now you definitely would do it. 

"Are you even eating?" You fret. "Clarke, you don't look okay." 

But Clarke only smiles. "Of course, I am. Are you saying I'm ugly?" 

"You know that's not what I meant." 

The smile widens and with a little bit of sparkle this time. "I know. I'm fine, it's just...a lot here I guess." 

"Maybe I should just fly to South Africa and take you home with me." You pout. 

"You're ridiculous but adorable." 

"I am not adorable." 

"Sure you are," Through the screen, Clarke looks into your eyes. "and I miss you." 

For a prolonged minute, sad smiles were exchanged while virtually holding each other's hands and soothing the fatigue and loneliness brought by impossible distance. And then you feel it, something you probably have felt before; a skip of a heart's beat as warmth spreads in your chest and an overwhelming desire to be with Clarke. Is it too soon to feel it or say? 

\--- 

Your demanding schedule competes with Clarke's as the launching of another tech that Raven spearheaded nears its due. Another month goes by and the photo was completely forgotten and the subject didn't come up again. 

Clarke is vying to be the chief resident which means most of her time is spent in the hospital. She seems happy and sounds so passionate of her work every time she tells you about a patient or a case she's working on. As weeks melt into months and Clarke was indeed appointed chief resident, talking every day was reduced to every other day, if Clarke doesn't drift off to sleep yet. 

More beats were skipped every time Clarke is on the phone or you're staring longingly at the city skyline waiting for another day to be over to pull Clarke's flight date closer. For every glance you make on your calendar, hours seem to slow down and days are annoyingly longer. 

Clarke is set to come home for Abby's wedding which also marks over one year of being apart. But the longer Clarke is away, the shorter the calls become and you've barely seen her in the past few months. 

You don't complain, you don't resent Clarke's success because she would never feel that towards you and you're doing your utmost to be supportive and understanding. 

Two months before Clarke's flight home, more apologies are written in your inbox about missing calls and forgetting to return them. You barely stay in your apartment because every space reminds you of Clarke and her absence, more hours are burned in the gym with Anya; less words, more jabs. 

"Are you trying to switch careers?" 

"What? Why?" 

"With the amount of time you've been spending here, I wouldn't be surprised if you ditch your fancy office to be a professional fighter." 

Maybe you can, at least you can punch something here. "Maybe I could." 

"Shouldn't you be exhilarated that Clarke is coming home in a few weeks?" Anya continues to prod while she surges forward for a round kick. 

"I am." 

A series of jabs and hooks then Anya lets out an exasperated sigh, "What is it?" 

"What is what?" 

"Fuck's sake Lexa, what's the pouting all about?" 

You don't answer which elicited another sigh from Anya, hoarse and a little irritated. "Fine, wallow in your frustrations." 

Anya left after another round to meet up with Raven while you stayed longer for a few sets of your workout, mostly cardio. Clarke had texted earlier that she won't be able to call tonight so you intend to tire yourself out so you'd fall asleep right away when you get home and not go through with the tossing and turning while you ruminate on the things that Clarke might be doing at the exact moment you're thinking of her; if she thought of you in the same amount you have in the last few months, if she yearned of coming back to you. 

The whole long-distance setup has been eating away at you lately, this is what you signed up for and you know that, it's just that you miss Clarke terribly. 

And you feel _alone._

You can't tell Clarke, not that she won't listen but she just has a lot on her plate and so little time, being the chief resident and all and you didn't want her to worry so you have been keeping it to yourself and have been channeling repressed emotions into physical activities. But you can only push it down for so long. All it took was a tedious day and Titus' remark about a corporate problem coinciding with a personal matter for the chaos to erupt and spill forth. 

"Your father wouldn't want you to do this," Titus asserts when you announced a new partnership with Nia Azgeda, another influential tycoon that your father was not too civil with. A significant number of shares were pulled out by investors some months ago when you were shot and they thought you weren't going to survive and the company would become unstable without a Woods in position which caused your company to be compromised. 

"Don't tell me what my own father would want," You snarl. 

"You can't trust Nia," Titus rebuts. "If you haven't been so distracted you would make a rational decision rather than letting Nia inside your walls. Gustus wouldn't approve of this." 

"Do not lecture me like I'm still a child making an impulsive decision," You snap, voice echoing through the four corners of your glass-walled office suite. "My father would want me to keep this company he built afloat and if you were doing your job, we wouldn't have this problem in the first place.'' 

"But-" 

"Don't you ever question my decisions again and where I spend my time because I am doing my job and you know that. Get out." 

"I didn't mean-" 

"I said, get out!" 

Dipping his head down, Titus shows himself out walking briskly to the door. Your breathing is harsh and heat is prickling on your skin with anger. A figurine from your table suffers your wrath as you fling it to the concrete wall and shattering. 

Collapsing on the swivel chair behind your desk, you bury your face on your hands, elbows resting on the hard wood. Fortunately, everyone had already gone home and no one has witnessed the clamor of your breakdown. 

You lingered in the office for a while, letting your anger and other tumultuous emotion inside dwindle until you're calm enough to drive home. 

It's another night of finishing a meal in solitary, you don't even bother to cook for yourself anymore and every meal in the last few weeks came out of a plastic container. Nothing in your current way of life is appealing, not without a certain human being. 

The trip home is hushed, the highway is empty but traffic lights and few pedestrians coming out late for dinner or on their own way home. You have memorized this road and every night on the way to your apartment you're as if driving in autopilot. 

You haven't visited your suburban home in a while, only hiring someone to clean it weekly and maintain the house. Since that night, you haven't been able to sleep there without waking up winded and terrified from a nightmare of seeing Emerson's face holding you at gunpoint. At Indra's recommendation, you've been seeing a therapist to cope with trauma and it's been helpful but the memory is like an indelible ink on your brain. 

Greeting your doorman before making a beeline for the elevator, you force a smile. The building lobby is empty but the elevator isn't as two women linked by the hands signaled for you to hold the door. They thanked you and you allow a smile as you stepped further back and stand behind them. As you reached your floor and got off, the pair caused your spirits to plummet to your stomach wishing you weren't alone tonight. 

The exhaustion of today's work and the argument with Titus weigh on your chest copiously and you can't wait to sink in the safety of your mattress perhaps after a warm shower. Turning the bolts of your door lock, you swing the door open fumbling for the light switch. But weirdly one of the lamps is switched on, you probably forgot to turn it off this morning. 

You turn the light on and you think you're hallucinating because Clarke is sitting on your couch. You blink your eyes twice more and fast and shakes your head but Clarke is still on your couch and is now smiling. 

Clarke _is_ home. 

"Hey, babe." Clarke says and rises from her seat to walk towards you. 

You're utterly dumbfounded and frozen from we're you're standing. "Clarke?"

Clarke is now standing in front of you still smiling like something she's seeing is amusing her. "No welcome home?" 

Finally, you're able to move your limbs and surges forward and immediately throw your arms around Clarke and she's warm to the touch and so, so real. A tingling sensation surfaces in your chest rising to your throat and at last leaking out of your eyes. Your hug must be crushing Clarke's ribs as she starts to squirm a little from your embrace but stills when your tears smudges her cheek. 

"Lex?" Her hold softens and begins to rub your back in soothing circles that it draws out more tears from you. 

"Just one more minute, please." You sniffle. 

"Okay, babe. I'm here," Clarke breathes. "I'm here." 

You and Clarke didn't move or untangle for at least three minutes. You're too overwhelmed and you have been dreaming to see and touch Clarke that you can't believe she's finally here with you. 

"Are you really here?" 

"Yes. I'm home." Clarke smiles. 

You smother her smile with a searing kiss, backing Clarke against the door as your hand found purchase on the base of her head and the other on her waist. Clarke kisses back with the same intensity, receptive and blistering, her hands roam to your sides then starts to unbutton your shirt with desperate fingers. 

Getting rid of the shirt, you continue to kiss Clarke until the smooches are heading south from Clarke's neck, sucking and biting on her clavicles. You pull Clarke's shirt over her head to gain access to the expanse of soft skin, her bra followed landing on the floor in a gentle clatter. 

Reaching your destination, you quickly unbutton Clarke's jeans and shimmies them down with her underwear. Clarke's hips roll in anticipation and as you look up to her, the crystal blue earlier had turned jet black, blown in lust. 

Clarke's leg slung on your shoulder for more leverage, a broad swipe of your tongue extracts a moan. Her hands on your head for balance as she's pushed back the door as you lick and lap with abandon and Clarke is essentially riding your face to orgasm. 

Clarke comes with knees buckling as her body convulses with pleasure, she pulls you up for a kiss. 

"Welcome, home." A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth. 

Clarke laughs. "I could get used to that." 

"Bed?" 

"Hmm yeah but can we maybe eat first? I'm starving." 

"Just did." You smirk. 

Clarke's cheeks pinked and her mouth gapes open at your smug remark, so you append, "What would you like?" 

"Burger and a large soda, please." 

You didn’t bother to put your bra back on, just your button down and Clarke did the same thing. You couldn't take your eyes off the blonde while she devours a double quarter pound. It almost seems surreal and she's not supposed to be home until next week but the stars seem to align for you today and the joy you feel at this second might melt your heart. 

"You're staring," Clarke comments. 

"I am aware," You say nonchalantly. "I just can't believe you're here right now." 

Clarke reaches for your hand and laces her fingers with yours. "I'm here now. And I'm sorry if I didn't call, I wanted to surprise you." 

"You did a good job with that," You gently tug Clarke closer and kisses the back of her hand. "Not that I'm complaining because I'm totally not but, why are you home earlier than the date you said?" 

"Well, let's just say I was rewarded for my hard work and they let me go home to _my_ girlfriend early." 

You allow a smile and nods in acquiescence. You've never heard Clarke refer to you as her girlfriend before and admittedly, the butterflies are wildly flapping their little wings in your stomach. 

"Does Abby know?" 

"Yeah. I called her before my flight." 

"Does Raven?" 

Clarke chuckles. "Yeah." 

You scoff and feigns offense that you were the only one who wasn't let in on the secret. Clarke laughs and pulls you for a kiss, cupping your face with both of her hands. As you're both sitting on the wool rug, Clarke pushes you down and straddles you with each knee on the sides of your hips. She proceeds to pull her shirt above her head and your mouth goes slack while Clarke smugly smirks and lets you admire the view a bit longer. 

"Let me properly apologize for not letting you in on the secret," Clarke murmurs with her distinct husked sound igniting the sensation pooling below your stomach. 

She recaptures your mouth with teeth clattering while your hand flies to her breast and lightly squeezing once then twice. Mouths slants while tongues swipe, scorching bodies pressed firmly to each other. A hand works its way between your legs and Clarke heaves with the hot slick mess she found and quickly works her fingers to your folds, gliding and teasing your entrance that makes your back curve upwards with chest meeting Clarke's. 

"Fuck, I've missed you so much," You enunciate between moans and shallow breaths. 

Clarke responds by thrusting two fingers inside, pulling and pushing while she sucks at the soft patch of skin below your ear and promptly dragging her tongue down the column of your neck. 

It's such a high to have Clarke this way again, your eyes are rolling to the back of their sockets as Clarke makes love to you in such vigor and passion. She fucks you with lust flowing out of her fingertips and _something else_ ; although her lips are persistent, sucking like she had been craving for it for years, her touch is tender and the way her fingers curl inside of you is careful and precise. Clarke watches every hitch of breath and jerk of head that you make like she's memorizing every part of you and what drives you to the edge. 

Sweat collects on skin and the air in the loft becomes thick with the fervent scent of sex and retrovaille. You come in Clarke's hand, shuddering and toes curling and she continues to dismantle you with devastating kisses and wandering hands. 

After catching your breaths, round three commenced in the shower with you kneeling on the cold tiled flooring, hands pinned on Clarke's hips much like the position by the door earlier but just wetter this time. 

Refusing to open her suitcase, Clarke borrowed a sleep shorts and shirt from your drawer, she holds your shirt to her nose and inhales before putting it on. You can't help but grin. 

She found the sweatshirt she wore a year ago crumpled between the pillows. Clarke looks at you like she's about to cry but a hint of smile is evident on her face. 

"Yeah, I uh, didn't wash it. Your scent's gone, though," You say self-consciously. 

Clarke didn't answer but walks towards you and once again you're frozen as Clarke presses her lips against yours softly, tilting once and pulling away just to circle her arms around your neck and hugs you tightly. 

"You have no idea how much I've missed you." 

It makes your chest want to crack open, it hurts; the kind that's quaking underneath, the type that's pleasuring and tingles in the best possible way. The moment is delicate and possibly fleeting and you don't ever want it to end because right here with Clarke's arms wrapped around you is the place you'd want to be in for the rest of your life. 

\--- 

"How do you feed yourself with empty everything but a jar of expired peanut butter?" 

Clarke's eyes widen in disbelief finding your fridge void of anything edible but a bottle of wine and a pack of beer. She continues to examine every cupboard while you observe. The shirt keeps riding up as Clarke reaches for handles exposing pale skin, she's been walking around your apartment looking for food barefoot and only in her underwear and a shirt. There's absolutely nothing to complain about. 

"I've been busy, and had I known you'd be home I would've gone grocery shopping." 

Closing the last cupboard, Clarke announces, "Okay, that's it we're going out." 

"Can we just order and stay home?" You groan. 

"Nuh-uh. We're going out." 

"How do you have so much energy? Aren't you supposed to be jetlagged?" 

"What can I say, you fucked the jetlag out of my system." 

You almost choked on your own saliva while Clarke walks back to the bedroom chuckling. Following the blonde inside, you found her rummaging through the contents of her suitcase picking out a jean shorts and a vintage tee. 

"Do we really have to?" You stand by the door leaning on the door frame. 

Clarke starts to strip herself off of your shirt and your throat bobs and your fingers twitch. Clarke seems so comfortable naked under the daylight while you gawk like the useless gay that you are. 

"Yes." She plants a kiss on your cheek and saunters to the bathroom before calling out, "Coming?" 

You realize now that you're powerless against Clarke, bending to whatever she asks as the day stretches out. Luckily, you have the weekend to yourselves as long as Tris doesn't bother you with any more of Titus' urgent requests. 

Basking in the morning sun, you and Clarke head to the grocery store to pick up some items after your breakfast at a place two blocks away from your apartment. You stroll on the sidewalk, hands never untangling and both sporting a smile extending to the eyes, sparkling, _knowing._

Grocery aisles had never been more appealing to you with a particular scene while you push the cart and Clarke loads them with ingredients you have no single clue what for. You're contented of following Clarke around as she tells you what South African cuisine is like, not that you're focusing what is a Cape Malay Curry or a Bunny Chow because your eyes are fixated on Clarke's lips, just that you hope it doesn't involve an actual rabbit. 

Clarke's presence boosts your youthful mischief; stealing kisses on every turn of corners or when you think no one is looking and Clarke's cheeks were tinted crimson by the time you reached the counter. It makes you giddy and over the moon. 

Walking back to your place, you volunteered to carry the heavier bag. Disregarding the moist that's collecting on your palms, Clarke takes your free hand in hers. In an alley where no one is passing, Clarke pulls you to a corner and backs you on a brick wall catching you off guard with the sudden turn of events. 

The bag you're holding falls on the pavement as Clarke's mouth attacks your lips, you reciprocate although wary of the surroundings. On the other hand, Clarke doesn't pull away and is blatantly ignoring whatever decorum you're supposed to be obeying. 

Finally, Clarke releases your lips as if satisfied of how swollen they are, "That's for earlier." 

You're not complaining, you just normally don't make out with anyone in public places but Clarke isn't just anyone and you're completely defenseless against her charms and ways and you keep bending like a willow tree. 

While you put away the groceries in the cupboards, Clarke prepares some fruits by the kitchen island so you're back to back with each other; butts sliding with sudden movements and fingers brushing. When Clarke finishes, she helps you to stock the fridge, handing bottles and jars and frozen items. Scarcely two sentences left each other's mouth while doing the chore at hand, contented with a wordless activity and only the clink and rustle of containers filled the kitchen. 

Next thing you know you're cuddling on the couch with your head on Clarke's arm while the other is wrapped around your midsection. Usually, you're the big spoon but being the small one isn't bad at all, not with Clarke. 

"Lexa?" Clarke murmurs. 

"Hmm?" 

"As much as I want to stay, I should probably go soon." Clarke starts to card her fingers through your hair. 

"Then stay," You whisper and turns so you are face to face with Clarke. 

Her hand shifts to caress your cheek, thumb moving up and down. "I'll come back. We just need to do some last-minute shopping for the wedding." 

"Okay." 

"Would you want to be my date for the wedding?" Clarke blurts out, smiling sheepishly. 

You realize that you've never seen Clarke's eyes this close with hardly half a foot distance, they coruscate under natural light like the bluest of sky with no sign of clouds on a bright summer. Her blonde locks look lighter like it's almost bleached. Your attention transports to the beauty mark above her lip and an urge to press your lips on it overwhelms your senses. You give in, letting the pull drive your hands to hold Clarke's face and bring her closer to you until mouths meet. 

Clarke's fingers are splayed on your lower back clinging to you closer, pressing her body to yours while you melt to her grasp and to her warmth like your bodies could fuse together if you're close enough. Your heart vibrates under its cage, pumping blood rushing to your veins like lava, fueling those fingertips to hold Clarke near, tender and fervent. 

"Of course," As if you would dare say no at this point or even have your own volition to be separated from Clarke. 

"Good." 

\--- 

_I want you, you know I do_   
_And I wanna let you love me_   
_I want you, you know it's true_   
_And I wanna let you love me_

Jervis Campbell's vocals blasts out of the stereo of your car as Clarke's head slowly bobs and her fingers snap while she jams to the music; her hair keeps flying to her face as the mountain breeze blows it away. It's almost dusk and the wind is getting frosty by the minute, the car engine hums as it hikes the slope to Marcus and Abby's wedding venue. 

The ceremony is set to happen tomorrow at sunset and the whole entourage was asked to come early as tonight to settle in and enjoy the amenities. Clarke had told you that they're expecting at most of a hundred guests invited. You're used to being around people but the thought of being in a room of Clarke's whole family is starting to give you anxiety. 

At the receiving area, you and Clarke were given separate keys which caused Clarke's frown and your amused grin. Abby booked two _separate_ cabins for each of you. 

"Seriously?" Clarke scoffs. 

"I think Abby's concerned I might get you pregnant by the end of this," You chuckle. 

"Shut up," Clarke smiles. 

To Clarke's chagrin, your rooms aren't even next to each other with yours being two rows back. Clarke mumbles something about how it's a waste of money as she opens the door to her cabin. It has a queen bed, a white couch and wooden coffee table and a bathtub on the far end of the room beside a shower with glass partitions. 

"Looks like you got the good one," You say, appraising the interior of the cabin. "Well, I'm gonna go check out mine." 

"No," Clarke says without looking and aggressively tapping on her phone. 

"No?" You raise an eyebrow, smiling. 

"I mean, we'll check it out later. Raven and O are here, let's go." 

"We will?" 

Clarke sighs loudly. "Lexa, stop parroting." 

You laugh. "Why are you so grumpy?" 

"I'm not grumpy. Leave your stuff here, let's go they're at the lobby." Clarke pulls you by the arm out of the door. 

"And bossy." You add but follows the blonde out. 

Raven waves sporting a wide smile as soon as she sees Clarke with you trailing behind. Anya is already looking bored but surprisingly not scowling, weddings were never her cup of tea. Another black-haired woman stands beside Raven who must be Octavia. Clarke hugs both of them and then beacons for you to come over. 

"O, this is Lexa. Lex, one of my best friends, Octavia Blake." Clarke introduces. 

"Pleased to finally meet you, Octavia." You offer a hand and a smile. 

Octavia takes your hand and firmly shakes it. "Just O is fine, and likewise." 

Somehow, the surname is familiar to you but you can't quite put a finger on why and where you've heard it. The thought vanishes as you see Abby approaching. 

"Well, looks like the whole band is here," Abby says with a glowing smile on her face. 

"Mom, you know we're going to share a room, right?" Clarke half whispers but you manage to hear it anyway and it seems like everyone did as well because Raven lets out a laugh. 

Abby furrows her eyebrows but a toothy grin followed a second after. "Oh, I know." 

Clarke knits her brows together and eyes Raven and her mother so Abby appends, "It was not my idea, honey." 

"I knew it'd piss you off. You're too easy, Griffin." Raven continues to laugh and then high-fives Octavia with a loud slap. "Give me the keys, your cabin is actually ours." 

"Very funny, Raven." 

"Welcome home, Clarkey." 

"Well, I'm keeping it since our stuff is already there. You can have Lexa's." 

"Nooo," Raven groans. "Lexa's doesn't have a bathtub." 

"We're keeping it, Reyes." Clarke smirks. 

While Abby shakes her head grinning like she's watching her children bicker and Raven protests, Clarke tows you away from the crowd. Abby yells that the rehearsal dinner will start in an hour but Clarke ignores her mother and Raven's continuous protest. 

Clarke kept walking while she tugged on your hand, interlacing her fingers with yours. Her palm is warm and soft and you felt an urge to bring it to your lips and kiss it. Your sudden halt caused for Clarke to get a bit outbalanced, involuntary stepping two steps backwards and finally facing you. Holding Clarke's hand firmer but gentle, you pull her closer and kissed her hand. 

The gesture made Clarke smile, it's the same one when she looks at you in the morning, the kind that reaches her eyes and sparkles when light collides with the blue of her irises. Sometimes you stare too much at Clarke's eyes like you get lost in them. You get lost in Clarke. 

Clarke lifts your chin so she could kiss you, cupping your face with both of her hands. It's chilly outside and she's only wearing a shirt, you notice her breath shiver as her lips fit with yours and the tip of her tongue grazes your upper lip. A hand flies to Clarke's waist, pulling her closer, diving in deeper into the kiss with every exhale of shared cold mountain air. 

Clarke pulls away first, her lips are swollen as she licks her bottom lip while she stares on yours. Your eyes meet and Clarke smiles. Kissing Clarke has always felt like a mini heart attack with how your blood feels like pure adrenaline coursing through your veins, throbbing on your temples and drums to your chest. Being with Clarke makes you believe in celestial alignment. 

And there is it is, on the tip of your tongue ready to be uttered and all it would take is a little nudge of courage for your voice to come out but you're suddenly tongue-tied possibly from the excessive happy hormones and your brain is short-circuiting or maybe it's Clarke's eyes swallowing you whole in that deep ocean. 

You want to say it, badly. At this point, it's probably long overdue. It's time. 

"Clarke?" 

Clarke's smile hasn't left her lips, "Hm?" 

"I-" "Hey love birds!" 

_Damnit, Raven._

"It's time!" Raven continues to yell from a safe distance for you not to verbally terminate her employment here and now from interrupting a moment but loud enough for both of you to hear. 

"We'll be right there!" Clarke yells back and returns her attention to you. "You were saying, babe?" 

"It can wait," You smile. _No, it cannot._

"Okay. Let's go?" 

You nod and took Clarke's hand and kissing the back of it again. 

To your relief, the rehearsal dinner went well in terms of meeting Clarke's family. Abby is radiant and beaming as Marcus made a toast. Clarke has been smiling all night, conversing with Raven and Octavia giggling here and there. The night grows deeper and everyone is carefree and jovial, the sparks of new beginning charging the air. 

At midnight, people slowly retired to their cabins, gentle footsteps tap on the pavement while muffled laughter and conversations echo in the night. Clarke clearly enjoyed herself as the indication of tipsiness shows in her footsteps. 

Clarke almost tripped on a bump but you caught her arm. "You okay?" 

"Mm-hmm." 

Clarke flailed her arms once or twice more until you reached your room. She barely got her shoes off before stumbling to the bed face first. You stand frozen by the foot of the bed, watching Clarke get comfortable in the bed as if her own limbs have a mind of their own cozily getting her under the sheets. 

Joining Clarke on the bed, you caress her cheek with the back of your fingers and run them through her hair. Having to be this close to her comes with the urge to kiss those lips and tuck your head under her chin and listen to her calm heartbeat, feel the shallow rise and fall of her chest with your own cheek. 

The hum of cicadas grow louder as the night deepens and along with it is your swelling feelings for Clarke that seems to make your jaws tighten as you hold back the words. A thunder is roaring under your ribcage and your hand aches to touch Clarke's. You want her to hear it the first time you would say it out loud but the chilly small hours make you want to say it now and so you did. 

"Clarke?" You softly murmur but Clarke didn't make any movement or sign that she's awake. You smile. 

"I love you." 

\---

You're woken up by a muffled ringing and aggressive buzzing. The break of dawn glows from the window, a pale streak of sunlight shines on Clarke's arm. Worried that Clarke's sound sleep will be disturbed, you slowly uncover the sheets from your torso and got out of bed to find your phone. You bet yourself a hundred bucks it's Titus ready to bombard your morning with corporate nuisance. 

You find the culprit on the coffee table beside Clarke's purse. Oddly, you don't recognize the caller ID and you realized it's not your phone but Clarke's. 

The caller ID displays _"Collins"_ _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think in the comments or say hi to me on tumblr @suitcasedstars.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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